


To Lead Fantastic Lives

by MrsCaulfield



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Crime, Dorks, Murder Mystery, Naegiri - Freeform, Romance, ishimondo - Freeform, it's non-canon compliant but it still has despair in it so i wouldnt call it a nondespair AU, multichap, they're all a bunch of friends here, theyre all dorks i tell you, this was imported from my tumblr account btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 119,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCaulfield/pseuds/MrsCaulfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiyotaka Ishimaru knew he had better things to do than worry about Mondo Oowada, but when the guy requests his help for the upcoming math exam, he could not find it in himself to refuse. The two soon find themselves in a friendship a lot more than what they bargained for as they get to know one another and find that they should have trusted each other all along.</p><p>A story of how friendless, socially awkward Ishimaru finds people who are willing to accept him for who he is, and how stubborn yet kind-hearted Oowada finds one person who accepts him for who he was in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was imported from my tumblr account since the reading format is a bit better here than on my blog.

Two things that bothered Kiyotaka Ishimaru the moment he stepped into the classroom:

Bullies that decided to just randomly beat the crap out of him—and truly, though, the sad part was that he wasn’t even remotely surprised by it. He’d always been such a desirable target for those pompous blockheads. He daresay it’s even become a regular part of his life now. 

Admittedly, the first thing wasn’t the more bothersome of the two.

The second was that three days ago, he’d had his all important mathematics research paper taken from him by said bullies. It had all happened so fast that he wasn’t even fully aware that it had taken place until they were long gone. And now his math grade is in danger of falling short of his goal.

_I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru. I do not tolerate mediocrity._

_And especially not when it comes from myself._

Ishimaru took his usual seat in the room with as much grace as he could muster, glancing briefly at the person seated beside him, Makoto Naegi. The poor kid was currently enthralled by one Sayaka Maizono, his eyes boring into the back of her head from all the way across the room.

“Naegi, you have a bit of drool on your face.” Ishimaru felt the need to point it out, though for what reason he did not know why. He and Naegi weren’t friends, _per se_. No, Ishimaru didn’t have any friends. But since he was obliged to sit beside him on a daily basis for the entirety of the school year, exchanging a few words with him was inevitable.

“Huh?” Naegi jumped slightly in his seat and shook his head. He swiped a hand at his mouth and sure enough, caught a bit of moisture in it. He broke his gaze from Maizono’s head and directed it at Ishimaru, who gave a curt nod. “Uh, that was—that was just…” Naegi stuttered and paused abruptly.

The short man took a good look at Ishimaru’s face, making him want to back away under his scrutiny.

“Ishimaru… What happened to you?” Naegi asked in a soft voice laced with concern.

The prefect felt the need to look away immediately. He rested his cheek on his palm, trying to hide the bright red cut peeking out from the skin of his cheekbones. He winced lightly. The stinging had stopped, but now it was throbbing mercilessly. He knew it’d form a bruise within the next few days.

“This is nothing, Naegi! I am sure, in a school like ours, you have seen far worse.” He tried to bring in a nonchalant laugh, but it came out as obviously forced.

“It sure doesn’t look like it’s nothing,” Naegi spoke, then dropped his voice. “The seniors giving you a hard time again?”

Ishimaru’s eye twitched. Other than that, though, he showed no indications of having been affected by Naegi’s remark.

“I saw them last week, you know,” Naegi continued. “Why didn’t you report them? I’m sure Headmaster Kirigiri wouldn’t tolerate—”

“All of _this_ , Naegi, is none of the Headmaster’s concern,” Ishimaru replied in a smooth tone. “The situation does not only fall under personal matters that the school rules should not even bother itself with, but it is also entirely under control, I assure you.”

“But—“

“I believe I have stated it is none of the Headmaster’s concern. And neither is it yours.”

Naegi nodded, still uncertain. “A-all right, then. I am sorry for imposing. I was just worried.”

 _Worry_. Now that was one of the many aspects of socialization that Ishimaru could never understand. The seniors that beat him up never showed any worry, and he saw no reason why they should. So why would Makoto Naegi worry about him?

“You know, Ishimaru,” Naegi spoke up, breaking through his downtrodden soliloquy. “You can talk to me, if you’d like. I-if you need someone, that is.”

Ishimaru looked at the short, mumbling boy and was surprised to see genuine concern over his features. He found himself nodding before he could think about it.

_Is this… Is this what forming a friendship is like?_

He wasn’t even sure if he and Naegi counted as friends. Then again, not many people were as kind to him as Naegi was. 

He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having Naegi as a friend.

But he shook his head. No. The very prospect of him having friends was simply impossible. Instead, he attributed Naegi’s kindness to his usually light and optimistic nature.

Perhaps Naegi was an angel.

“Why don’t you ask Maizono-kun out?” Ishimaru said, more for the purpose of changing the subject than anything else.

“Wh-what, are you insane?!”

“I was only under the impression that it’s the logical course of action towards someone that you find attractive, although admittedly I wouldn’t know for I have never experienced it myself. Still, I hardly think the state of my sanity would factor into it.”

“Do you want me to get beat up by Kuwata?”

Ishimaru mulled over his response. Leon Kuwata has been going around spreading word that he and Maizono were already an item, but he knew for a fact that the baseball player was all talk. Still, it would be for the better for Naegi to stay on his good side.

“Fair enough, then,” he said, agreeing. Naegi was a good guy. It would be a shame if someone were to kill him.

At that moment, their English teacher Mr Greenworth entered the room and everyone settled in their seats. 

“Good morning, class.” Mr Greenworth spoke. As a native of the United States, the students often found it hard to understand his accent, but Ishimaru spent the whole of last summer tweaking his English to perfection, so he encountered fewer problems at deciphering his speech. “Your assignment for the weekend was to read the first act of Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_.” 

Ishimaru wanted to groan. A normal school wouldn’t dare assign Shakespeare to Japanese high school students. However, this was Hope’s Peak, and there were certain expectations to be met.

“Whom of you actually did the assigned reading?”

As expected, only Ishimaru’s and Naegi’s hands went up. Mr Greenworth sighed.

“An assignment is an assignment, everyone. I am very disappointed.”

“But, sir,” the soft, feminine voice of Aoi Asahina went up from the back of the room. “I-I tried to read it, sir, but it was a bit difficult to follow.”

“Yes, Asahina, I understand that the flow might be a bit new to you, which is why I’ll be giving you your culminating project for the school year.”

Ishimaru instantly straightened up in his seat. A culminating project for English class meant that he’d have to pay attention to every single detail, lest he risk failing the class overall.

Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating a bit. But to Ishimaru, anything less than a 90 already counted as a failure.

“The work will be done in pairs. The goal is to submit to me a fully polished, decently refined play, fifteen to twenty pages long, by the end of the year. The topic is of your own choosing. As for your partners, leave that to fate to decide.”

He held up a hat with slips of paper inside. “I have here the names of the people in the last two columns. Those in the first two columns will draw one name from the hat. Are you ready?”

The teacher began passing around the hat. Ishimaru got the name of Chihiro Fujisaki, who was a relatively nice girl so he was sure to have no qualms about that.

Beside him, Naegi stiffened, his face turned pale.

“Naegi. Is something the matter?” He asked.

“I-I, uhh…” Naegi stammered and showed Ishimaru the slip of paper he withdrew. Ishimaru’s eyes went wide as he read the name _‘Kyouko Kirigiri’_ on it.

“Ahh, you’ll be fine, Naegi. I’m sure she is not as bad as everyone says she is.” Ishimaru tried to comfort him, but he knew it was to no avail. Sweat broke out on Naegi’s forehead.

“What am I going to do? I can’t even talk to her!”

Ishimaru really did feel sorry for him at the moment. Kyouko Kirigiri, daughter of Headmaster Jin Kirigiri, was known throughout the entire school, but for all the wrong reasons. Kirigiri was a quiet girl who generally held a cold, brooding demeanour. She always kept to herself and never talked unless prompted. There were tons of rumours about her, and they weren’t very pretty ones either.

Her specialty is unknown. She would tell no one of her skill, thus nobody knew how she got into Hope’s Peak in the first place. But the most common assumption was that she was simply a weirdo with no skill at all save for being the Headmaster’s daughter. Needless to say, that did not earn her any points from anyone.

The last rumour that Ishimaru heard of her was that she was a leader of a Satanic cult that wrapped chains on their thighs until they bled out as a form of worship. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the mental image.

They were given the rest of the period to talk to their partners about the project. As expected, Fujisaki was very cooperative, leaving nearly all the work to Ishimaru, just as the latter preferred.

“Whatever makes you happy, Ishimaru-kun!” she said, her eyes bright and wide. “Just tell me if you need any help in anything. Especially when it involves computers or technology of any sort.”

“Thank you Fujisaki. I will be sure to contact you should I need your assistance.”

English class ended, and they all settled down once again. Cautiously, Ishimaru glanced at Naegi, who wore an even more horrified expression than the one he had before.

“How was it, Naegi? Was Kirigiri-kun just like you hoped she was?”

Naegi shook his head slowly, turning to him and looking so obviously shaken to his very core.

“Ishimaru,” he gulped. “She wants to write a _murder mystery_.”

 

When lunchtime came around, all the students started to head to the cafeteria. Ishimaru took a little time to finalize his notes before he headed out. The halls were already empty by the time he stepped out of the classroom. He started walking on the right side of the hallway. _‘Keep right!’_ was the reminder taught to him by his parents when he was a kid, and he’s never forgotten it since. If everyone followed the rule, the hallways would be more orderly, and there would be no students awkwardly bumping around. It was safer and more peaceful.

But of course, the students have yet to learn the rule. And it was his job as the Super High School Level Prefect to be the epitome of a model, law-abiding student.

He squared his shoulders and raised his chin, hands clasped behind his back in what he knew to be with military precision. His footsteps grew more certain, more proud.

And he collided into something hard.

 _“Oof!”_ Ishimaru fell backwards onto the floor. Rubbing his head, he looked up at the person he bumped into. 

Mondo Oowada.

“You there! Have you not heard of the rule, ‘ _Always keep right_ ’? You are a walking hazard to you and to those around you!”

“Um, nope,” the biker replied cooly. “Never heard of it.” He offered a hand to Ishimaru. The latter stared at it in confusion. “You’re s’posed ta take it. Ya know, so I can help you up?”

Ishimaru nodded dumbly before taking the offered hand and hoisting himself up.

“And why are you not headed in the direction of the cafeteria?” Ishimaru implored. “Not planning to goof off somewhere else, I hope.”

“Chill, Hall Monitor. I was just gonna take a piss.”

“Oh.” Ishimaru closed his mouth into a thin line and tried to maintain his hard demeanour. But judging by the gleam of amusement in Oowada’s eyes, he could see that he had not succeeded.

“Cat got your tongue, Hall Monitor?” He said slyly.

“Just make sure not to ram yourself into any more unsuspecting students on the way there. Good day, Oowada.”

“While we’re at it, though, I have been meaning to talk to you.”

Ishimaru stared blankly at him. “Have you now?”

“Look, I’ll be blunt,” Oowada started. “I’m stupid.”

“You _are_ stupid.”

“I know, Hall Monitor. Jeez, I just said so!”

“I was merely commending your ability to know yourself so thoroughly. Continue.”

Oowada shot him a glare. Ishimaru did not falter under his threatening gaze.

“I’m failing math.”

“I know that too.”

“Goddamn it! Will you just let me finish talking?”

In his frustration, Oowada had backed Ishimaru into a wall, one of his hands slamming on the space beside his head. Ishimaru flinched, his previously hard demeanour instantly dissipating.

Oowada, having realized what he’s done, softened visibly, but did not back away.

“I was told that I should ask you to tutor me or somethin’.”

“You want me to tutor you in math?” He asked in disbelief.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I may not look it, but I don’t like failing classes either! And you’re the best there is, Hall Monitor. Just help me out here!”

Ishimaru stared at him uncertainly. He let out a nervous laugh.

“I… am not sure that is such a good idea,” Ishimaru replied.

“Why not?”

“Well… ahhh…” Why _did_ he think it was such a bad idea?

He stared up, _way_ up, at Oowada’s eyes. He’s never seen anyone so… dominating. It was rare that anyone could tower over him in such a way. It made him feel so small and so insignificant. Like he could be crushed by him at any moment.

The mere sight of the man already ignited so many unpleasant memories in him, not that Oowada himself had ever done anything threatening to him, but his form was so reminiscent of those bullies that always tormented him for their own entertainment.

Mondo Oowada made him feel unsafe. And to agree to this proposition… That would be unwise.

“Also,” Oowada continued, “I forgot to tell ya. I was told that if you agreed to tutor me _and_ get me at least an 80 on the next exam, sir’d give you a perfect mark on that research paper you forgot to submit.”

Ishimaru’s eyes brightened. He gritted his teeth. “I did _not_ forget to submit it. I do not forget anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. So will you do it? Please, I’m kinda desperate.”

“That… does sound tempting…”

Ishimaru pondered over it for a while. On one hand, he didn’t know whether he could trust Oowada or not. On the other, he really did need the incentive for his research paper. He’s worked too hard for it to crumble away to nothing.

_I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru and I absolutely despise bullies._

He looked deep into Oowada’s eyes once again, trying to dissect the man for all he’s worth. To be fair, he _was_ the leader of Japan’s most feared biking gang, so he had every right to be wary.

Oowada looked hard and threatening. Most of all, though, he appeared to be entirely closed. Like he’s filled to the brim with… _something_ … and yet he wouldn’t let anyone see what it was.

Slowly, he nodded at the taller man.

_I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru and I absolutely despise bullies._

_But I’ve decided to take this one on anyway._


	2. Testing the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishimaru and Oowada's first tutoring session goes a bit less smoothly than expected.

Oowada stepped back, a slight frown fixed on his face.

“Wait, so you’ll do it?”

“Did you perceive the nod as something else?”

“No, I-I didn’t. Just…” Oowada trailed off uncomfortably. “Right. Let’s start tomorrow after class. I’ll just give you the address to my house.”

“Ishimaru?” 

The two men looked to the source of the voice to find Naegi. He looked small and frail next to the two towering men, but he had on a hard and determined expression. His eyes are fixed on Ishimaru.

“Ah, Naegi,” the prefect replied. “Is something wrong?”

Naegi looked back and forth between the two men, his expression wary. Finally, he spoke. “Nothing. I was just wondering if you would like to have lunch with us today.”

Ishimaru raised his eyebrows. “I…” he trailed off. He didn’t quite expect the invitation, but he didn’t really feel like declining either. “Yes. Thank you. Let us head to the cafeteria now.” He turned back to Oowada, who had been strangely quiet throughout the whole encounter. “I shall see you tomorrow, then.”

Ishimaru followed Naegi through the halls, leaving Oowada to himself. He did not know what exactly to make of their recent encounter. Though to put things lightly, it was definitely intriguing.

Not that he expected anything to come out of tutoring Oowada, though. He highly doubted that. The two of them were drastically incompatible. Polar opposites, they were. Knowing that, it would probably only result to chaos.

Ishimaru was already starting to regret agreeing to the proposition.

They arrived in the cafeteria, got some food and took their seats. There were only two other people on the table: Chihiro Fujisaki and Mukuro Ikusaba. When they sat down, Chihiro waved at Ishimaru, while Ikusaba looked as if she were trying to burn holes through her plate.

“By the way,” Naegi spoke, “Was everything okay in there? Back with Oowada, I mean.”

It was an innocent question, but even the socially inept Ishimaru could read clearly its actual meaning in Naegi’s eyes: _Was he hurting you?_

Stiffly, Ishimaru shook his head.

Naegi broke out into a smile and turned to the girls. “How’s your day so far, ladies?” He asked lightly.

Chihiro, who had been chewing on her food, swallowed and responded to his question cheerily. “It’s been good, Naegi-kun. My brother just got engaged and we are all very happy for him.”

“That’s certainly good news. What about you, Ikusaba? Anything noteworthy happened to you lately?”

Ikusaba, seated beside Naegi, looked up briefly from her plate and opened her mouth. A strange, slightly strangled sound came out before she shut it, blushed madly, and went back to staring at her plate again.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Naegi asked her, his voice gentle. He leaned towards her. “Feeling a bit under the weather, maybe? Have you tried seeing the nurse?”

Slowly, Ikusaba looked back up at him. She shook her head. “I got a perfect score in our science quiz,” she said shyly.

“That’s great, Ikusaba!” Naegi exclaimed, leaning back in his seat and stuffing a forkful of macaroni and cheese in his mouth. “You should congratulate yourself. Don’t be so down in the dumps, alright? You deserve it.”

Ikusaba nodded wordlessly, her eyes glazed with a look that Ishimaru couldn’t put a finger on.

Why Naegi could reduce the Super High School Level Mercenary to a blushing, mumbling mess, he might never find out.

 

Ishimaru looked up at the front door of the Oowada household, trying to compose his jumping nerves. He didn’t even know what he was nervous for, exactly. All he knew was that the moment he set foot on the pavement leading to Oowada’s house, his legs suddenly turned to jelly and sweat broke out on his forehead.

Earlier in the day, the gang leader offered him a ride to his house and Ishimaru, who viewed motorcycles with earth-shattering disdain, declined as politely as he could. After all, he did have some after school duties to attend to. Instead, he promised to be there as soon as possible.

He took a deep breath and knocked. Panic set in him. What if it was Oowada’s parents that opened the door? Wouldn’t that be weird?

Would it? He really wasn’t sure. It was times like these that he really wished he was more capable of grasping social fundamentals.

Luckily, it was the biker’s face that appeared when the door opened. He was still clad in his school uniform. When he saw Ishimaru, he gave a wordless grunt and gestured for him to come in.

Whatever Ishimaru expected of the Oowada household came nowhere near to what it actually was. To be honest, his expectations did border a bit on the ridiculous side. He’d thought to see dark hues, chains, and motorcycle parts scattered all over the floor. He had expected an array of framed swords and knives on the wall, and maybe even a few pieces of human bones here and there because for some reason, he had always associated Mondo Oowada with death. 

Instead, the house was neat. _Too_ neat. The abnormality of it was unnerving. Now Ishimaru was a huge fan of cleanliness, but this just felt… _wrong._

The floor was a sparkling white. Tables and chairs perfectly aligned and uncreased—as if they weren’t used very much. The walls, where he expected the display of deadly weapons would be, were bone bare and covered simply with bland wallpaper. There were no ornaments, no family photos, no decorative plants.

For all intents and purposes, Ishimaru would describe it was empty. The empty house.

Oowada cleared his throat. “If you’re done gaping at everythin’, maybe we should start.”

Ishimaru nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course. Shall we?”

He was led into the barely used living room area. Oowada sat down on the floor and patted the space next to him.

Grimly, Ishimaru shook his head and seated himself across from Oowada, the coffee table a barricade between their bodies. The biker raised an eyebrow.

“Won’t it be easier if we sat side by side? It’s a huge hassle to have to keep rotatin’ the book between the two of us.”

Ishimaru stiffened and spoke uncertainly. “I would prefer our current positions. I hope it doesn’t bother you, but please understand that close proximity to you makes me uncomfortable.” He cringed. He didn’t mean to say that much, nor did he mean to make it sound so harsh. He braced himself for the cutting remark that was sure to come at his foolish miscalculation.

Instead, Oowada shrugged. “Hm. Guess you’re even weirder than I thought you were.”

If Ishimaru wasn’t mistaken, there seemed to be a hint of laughter on his lips.

“A-alright.” Ishimaru started before he got carried away by his confusion. “Please bring out your textbook, Oowada.”

“My what?”

“Your textbook. It says so in the Hope’s Peak Academy Agreement Form that all students are entitled to a complete provision of learning materials and research outlets. Should—”

“Ah, yeah. Must’ve dropped it somewhere. I don’t know. Shit happens.”

Ishimaru’s jaw dropped. He felt blood coming up to his head in the beginnings of rage. “You _lost_ your math book?”

Oowada shrugged.

Ishimaru tried to calm himself. He needed to get that perfect mark on his research paper so badly. He took a deep breath and shifted to a more relaxed position.

“Alright, then. We’ll just be using my book. May I see your notes?”

“ _Yeah_ , about that…”

Ishimaru struggled not to slam his head on the coffee table.

“Which parts of the lessons do you find difficult to comprehend?”

“Um… All of it?”

This time, he really _did_ slam his head on the coffee table.

Oowada ran a hand through his big hair. “Calm down, Hall Monitor. It’s honestly not as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad?!” Ishimaru shot back up and glared at him. “You have to get an 80 on your next exam, and the state of my research paper is compromised thanks to _your_ ignorance!”

“Okay, okay! Jeez, no need to shout! That’s why I asked for your help, remember? Because I’m stupid.”

“Yes. Now I know you really _are_ stupid. More so than I thought.”

“So instead of arguing, can we just get started already? We’re wasting lightyears here, and I have to meet the gang at five.”

Ishimaru glanced at his watch. “Are you serious? That leaves us with less than an hour to study!”

“What’s wrong with an hour?”

“Your lack of ability to grasp basic algebraic concepts is _appalling_. We will need _two hours_ for this!”

“ _Two hours?_ What the fuck, man? I ain’t got that much time!”

“Then perhaps you should have considered that _before_ asking for my help.”

Oowada sighed. “I really only have one hour."

“An hour and forty-five minutes,” Ishimaru countered.

“An hour and ten minutes.”

“An hour and thirty minutes.”

“An hour and twenty.”

“This isn’t agreeing with me.”

“Alright, fine! Hour and thirty!”

Ishimaru smiled triumphantly. “Brilliant!”

“You’re _insane_.”

The eager smile disappeared from Ishimaru’s face, only to be replaced with a hard expression as he stared at Oowada coldly. The change had been so drastic that it took the biker slightly aback.

And then, Ishimaru laughed.

“Okay. _Now_ let’s get started,” he said, eyes gleeful.

Oowada stared at him as if he had seen a ghost. “ _Bonkers._ You’re absolutely bonkers.”

 

As the tutoring session went along, it became clear that Oowada hadn’t listened to a single word in their math class. Ishimaru’s impatience was growing thin.

“ _Look,_ ” he pointed to his textbook. “ _This_ is a graph of a line. In finding its equation, it is pertinent that we determine its slope and its intercept, which is was _this_ formula is for.”

“Yeah, and what next?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“‘Course I am! I want to pass this damn exam almost as badly as you do, ya know.”

“Alright. Then I shall ask you a question to test your attentiveness.”

“Shoot.”

Ishimaru looked down on the book and read a problem off it. “ _‘A line passes through the points three, negative two, and negative four, one. What is the slope of the line?’_ ”

Oowada stared blankly at him, while Ishimaru simply looked hopeful.

Ishimaru gestured to a pen and paper on the table. “You may use scratch work for that.”

The biker slowly picked up the pen and started writing. When he was done, he held it up for Ishimaru to see.

On it, he had written a single character, barely discernible among the jumbled mess of all the other stuff he had written: 

_Y._

“So are we done now?”

Ishimaru stared at the paper in horror.

“Yo, Hall Monitor! Am I right? We’re done now, right?”

Ishimaru slapped a hand to his forehead. “Not even close.”

“ _What?_ ” Oowada looked back at his answer. “How can it be wrong? I thought real hard about it!”

“I literally just finished showing you how to solve it! You are not taking this matter seriously, Mondo Oowada.”

“I’m trying, okay? It’s just… _ugh._ _Jesus, fuck_. This isn’t me at all.”

“Oowada, language!” Ishimaru yelled sternly.

“ _My_ house, _my_ rules.” The biker gave a sly smile. “You ain’t got no halls to monitor here.”

Ishimaru frowned at him in response.

“Now, are we done here? I’m already late for a night out with the gang.”

Ishimaru nodded. “Yes, it is getting late. My parents will definitely be wondering.”

“Good.” The two stood up and Ishimaru started towards the door.

He stopped and turned back to the biker. “And don’t think I will be letting you go as easily tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do, and I am determined— _fiercely_ determined to get you that 80 on your exam.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“And I do not appreciate you sidetracking this grave matter in favour of your—your gun-toting, law-breaking hooligans!”

“Okay, first of all, the only guns we’ve got, are _these_ —” Oowada flexed an arm, showing off his bicep. “And second of all, don’t be so quick to judge my gang. You might even meet ‘em someday.”

Ishimaru scoffed. “Please. I have no interest in perusing through your world of crass manners and meaningless fights.”

“Well you’re one to talk. What happened to your cheek?”

Ishimaru stiffened. Instinct took over as he quickly placed his fingers on the now darkened cut. It did not swell as much as he thought it would, and he did his best to try to hide it. In fact, no one even said a word about it. _So how did Oowada…?_

“I grazed my cheek with a cutter when I was working on that history diorama project,” he replied smoothly.

“ _Bullshit._ ”

Oowada stepped close, _uncomfortably_ close, drawing on his full height. He looked straight into Ishimaru’s eyes, taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger. The touch was surprisingly gentle, and Ishimaru found he could opt to get lost into the sensations that it brought him. He could not, for the life of him, know what was going through Oowada’s mind at the moment, and it intrigued and terrified him at the same time.

“I know the traces of a bastard’s jab when I see one.”

Ishimaru jumped and stepped back from him, immediately increasing the distance between them. He shook his head, struggling to remain firm in his conviction. “I think I’ll be going home now,” he said feebly.

“You should be more careful.”

“They do this to me because of who I am.” Ishimaru gulped, wondering why he’d said that out loud. “And I can’t change who I am.”

Oowada, to his surprise, shook his head. “I’m not saying you should. I’m just telling you to be more careful.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Oowada shrugged, his expression nonchalant. “Because those fuckers don’t deserve your time of day.”

Ishimaru did not even notice that he had been led out the front door until it slammed shut in his face.


	3. Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishimaru gets to know Oowada, and decides he doesn't like him. He hears a voice of reason though.

_“He is absolutely insufferable!”_

Ishimaru yelled at the top of his lungs, holding a fork in hand and stabbing the lunch table with it. The motion took all the others on the table aback, and they all jumped in their seats in surprise.

Ishimaru’s eyes were on fire—well, more so than usual, and his chest was heaving, his expression livid.

Naegi placed a careful hand on his arm. “Uh… Ishimaru? I was only asking you how your weekend went.”

He stared blankly at the shorter man before roaming his eyes over to the rest of the party. Naegi, Fujisaki, and even Ikusaba were all eyeing him strangely. He tried to relax. The fork clattered on the table as he let go.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he said, more softly this time.

“It’s okay, Ishimaru-kun!” Fujisaki replied. “If anything is troubling you, you should definitely tell us!”

Surprised, Ishimaru looked towards her. “Do you really mean that?” He asked in disbelief.

Naegi nodded. “We’re always willing to listen, you know. Maybe we can even try to help you out a bit.”

The prefect looked down on his plate as he felt the beginnings of tears forming already. 

“What’s wrong?” Fujisaki asked.

Ishimaru, still not meeting their eyes, whispered. “No one was ever willing to listen to my problems before.”

The table went silent.

Ishimaru raised his head, his usual determined look back on his face. “Alright! I’ll tell you!”

It had been exactly seven days since Ishimaru agreed to tutor Oowada, and the more time he spent with the gang leader, he found himself liking him less and less.

The man always got on his nerves and infuriated him to the very core. He didn’t like his attitude, his crude manner of speaking, and the fact that he seemed to derive pleasure from Ishimaru’s discomfort. He wished that next month’s major exams would come sooner so there would finally be an end to this.

“As you all probably know already, I have recently agreed to offer my services to Mondo Oowada in Math,” he started. “It went about as well as you would expect.” His face was grim as he spoke.

“What? Why?” Fujisaki asked. “What happened, Ishimaru-kun?”

“I cannot stand him! I mean, it’s not like I expected as to get along anyway, but… does he have to act like such a daft delinquent all the time?!”

“I guess he does sort of have the tendency to make that sort of impression on others…” Fujisaki spoke softly. Ishimaru nodded.

“It has only been a week, and I’ve met with him only four times and already I am regretting making the decision.”

“Is it too late to back out?” asked Naegi.

The prefect placed his chin on his hand and sighed deeply. “Quitting is not an option. I desperately need that grade on my research paper. The state of my future depends on it!”

“Is there really no other way?” Ishimaru shook his head grimly.

“Not that I know of. I have tried to speak with Mr. Monokuma personally, but even he said that this was the only way.”

“Wow. Tough luck, then.”

Strong words coming from the Super High School Level Luckster. 

“But!” Fujisaki piped up, making all heads turn to her. “I am sure this is just an adjustment period, Ishimaru-kun, for the both of you. You and Oowada might get along better with time.”

The idea nearly made the prefect laugh. _Nearly._ “Fujisaki, I appreciate your attempts at comforting me, but that is simply not possible.”

“What do you mean?” Fujisaki surprised everyone with the amount of determination in her voice. “What exactly did he do to you to make you so angry?”

 _Well, if it’s the full story she wants, it’s the full story she’ll get,_ Ishimaru thought.

“Alright. To prove my point, I believe it is important that I tackle this piece by piece. Exhibit A!”

_Day two of tutoring Mondo Oowada. The set up wasn’t that different from the day before, only this time the smell of sour chips hung in the air, making Ishimaru want to throw up. The gang leader, on the other hand, munched happily on them as he held a bag of said chips in one hand._

_Ishimaru crinkled his nose. “Must you eat that kind of chips specifically? The smell is extremely unappetizing.”_

_In response, Oowada shrugged and a smirk made its way on his face. “Well, I like it. And you don’t get to tell me what to eat and what not to eat, Hall Monitor. I’d watch my words if I were you.”_

_To further enunciate his point, he grab a particularly large chip from the bag and opened his mouth as wide as it could go, taking in the chip and chewing very loudly. Ishimaru’s frown deepened._

_“Anyway,” the prefect spoke. “Let us go back to the lesson.”_

_“Oh yeah, I lost my pen at school today. Can I borrow yours?” Oowada asked through his mouthful of chips. Ishimaru cringed visibly._

_“Ah, alright…” He handed his pen over to the gang leader, who took it with oily, salty, and saliva-coated fingers. He made sure to wrap his large hand around the pen firmly._

_“Thanks!” He said cheerfully. He scribbled some notes on a piece of paper and returned the pen to Ishimaru._

_The prefect stared at it in disgust. “Er, you can keep that.”_

“Has he no sense of hygiene?!” Ishimaru exclaimed. “He is messy and unkempt and _disgusting!_ ”

“Well, in his defense, he _is_ a gang leader,” said Naegi. “I’m pretty sure cleanliness is usually the last thing on his mind.”

“Even so! There is no excuse for his sloppy behavior and I _refuse_ to simply sit there and tolerate it while he dirties up all of my belongings!”

“He definitely does need to work on hygiene a little bit,” Fujisaki said. “But really, that doesn’t sound so bad, Ishimaru-kun!”

“Oh, but it gets worse.”

_Day three of tutoring Mondo Oowada, and this time he had the decency to serve them some snacks._

_Granted, it was only a couple of biscuits and water, but at least it wasn’t sour chips._

_Ishimaru observed the tall man as he walked to the kitchen and back. There was something off about him, and he pondered on exactly what that something was._

_Oowada set the snacks on the table and went back to his place in front of Ishimaru. He raised an eyebrow at the prefect’s odd stare._

_“Something caught your eye, Hall Monitor?”_

_“You walk funny.” Well, that wasn’t how he was planning to say it, but oh well. Ishimaru really did have no filter sometimes._

_“The fuck did ya just say to me?” Oowada glared._

_By this time, Ishimaru had already gotten used to his glares and it didn’t scare him as much anymore. “Your walk. When you walk, your elbows don’t touch your sides. It’s rather peculiar.”_

_The biker stared at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Wha—I do not!”_

_“As a matter of fact, you do. It looks unnatural, like you’re trying too hard. And for what? To look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa?”_

_“Ya better shut yer trap, Hall Monitor. Jokes don’t suit you.”_

_This time, it was Ishimaru’s turn to look smug. “I was only making an observation. You are quite easy to infuriate, Mondo Oowada.”_

_“And stop using my full name! It’s weird, man!”_

_“I’ll stop using your full name if you would stop referring to me as ‘Hall Monitor’.”_

_“Eh? Why should I? It’s what you are, right?”_

_He had to agree that he had a point there. “Then I shall keep calling you by your full name, Mondo Oowada.”_

_“You must think yer so clever, don’t ya?” Oowada said. “Makin’ fun of my walk, cracking jokes. Now yer even teasing me! This is a whole new side to ya, H.M.”_

_“‘H.M.’?! I beg your pardon!” Ishimaru stood up. “I will_ not _be patronized like this!”_

 _Oowada stood up too and placed a hand mockingly at the top of the prefect’s head. “Another reminder, by the way. Next time, before you comment on anyone’s walk, just remember that_ I’m _not the one who walks like I have a stick up my ass all the time.”_

_Ishimaru gasped and stepped back, his glare was trained full force on the amused biker’s face. “‘A stick up my ass’?! What are you trying to imply, Mondo Oowada?”_

_“I’m not implying anything! Well, except maybe that you walk like a baby penguin. It’s kinda cute, actually.”_

_Ishimaru stared down at his feet, and when he spoke, his tone had gone noticeably softer._

_“It’s because of the boots, isn’t it?”_

“Awww! He gave you a cute nickname!” Fujisaki remarked, earning a hearty laugh from Naegi and a slight giggle from Ikusaba.

Ishimaru flushed. “I-That is not the point! The point is that he insulted the way that I walk!”

“Yeah, but you did start it, Ishimaru.” Naegi replied. “Besides, you know Oowada. The way he says things usually sound worse than how he actually means them.”

Fujisaki nodded. “I really do not think he is all that bad. You shouldn’t be so quick to judge him.”

Ishimaru, seeing that his argument was going downhill, knew he had kick it up a notch.

“Alright. You probably think the two situations I’ve presented you to be trivial. But this one, I bet, will change everything you have thought of Mondo Oowada thus far!”

“Give it your best shot, then,” Naegi said lightly.

_Day four of tutoring Mondo Oowada, and Ishimaru barely even made it past his doorstep._

_The front door opened before he even had the chance to knock on it, and out came Oowada, walking quickly and pushing his arms inside his Crazy Diamonds jacket hurriedly._

_“Listen, I don’t have time for this today, alright?” He said, barely glancing at Ishimaru as he sat on his motorcycle and turned the engine on. It went up with a loud roar._

_“What do you mean? You have a test to study for and we’ve no time to waste!” Ishimaru replied with a frown. “I do not appreciate you slacking off again, Mondo Oowada!”_

_Oowada set his hands on the handles, twisting them, making the engine jolt up and roar even louder. He looked at Ishimaru, face stone cold. “I said I don’t have time for this! Now go home!”_

_“You should at least give me an explanation!”_

_Oowada’s jaw hardened. For a second, Ishimaru feared that he would hit him._

_“And you’re not getting any. Just go home and do whatever the fuck it is you usually do after school. I just really don’t care.”_

_And with that, he was off, leaving a very confused Ishimaru on the front lawn of the Oowada household with only a handful of leaves floating in the air to accompany him._

“The nerve of him! To simply write me off without so much as an explanation!” Ishimaru was yelling once again. “And here I thought things were going a little bit better between us! Well, it seems I made the wrong assumption.”

The smiles disappeared from Naegi’s, Fujisaki’s and Ikusaba’s faces.

“He made me look like an idiot.” Ishimaru continued. “He pushed me around and belittled me and I do not like that at all. He is no better than those seniors who—” he stopped abruptly. He’d nearly spoken out loud about the bullying situation, which at this point only Naegi knew about. He really needed to work on filtering his speech!

“Wow, Ishimaru. I don’t know what to say…” said Naegi. “I guess you were right about him after all.”

They both turned to look at Fujisaki. She was quiet, and there was a strange, mortified expression on her face.

“Fujisaki?” Naegi called out. She did not make the slightest indication that she heard him.

“So, how was _your_ weekend, Naegi?” Ishimaru thought it better to ask instead of hogging the whole conversation for himself.

Naegi went a bit red in the face. “I-I, it was… It went well, actually! I mean, it was… It was okay.” 

“What did you do?” Ikusaba spoke for the first time since Ishimaru’s ‘presentation’ on Mondo Oowada’s ignorance.

“Well, Kirigiri went over to my place so we could talk about what we were going to do for our English project.”

“And how did it go?” asked Ishimaru.

“It was surprising, Ishimaru. I don’t know how else to describe it. She had all these ideas and they were all just… _amazing._ ”

“You last told me that she wanted to work on a murder mystery, did you not?”

Naegi nodded. “For some reason, she sounded like she really knew what she was doing.”

“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting,” Ikusaba spoke suddenly, “but how is that a good thing?”

Naegi turned to her. “What do you mean, Ikusaba?”

“I’m just saying. You just said it was as if she knew what she was doing. You’re working on _murders_ , of all things. Don’t you think you should be wary of her?”

Naegi frowned slightly. “Come on. Don’t tell me you actually believe all those rumors about her! She’s just a normal kid like the rest of us.”

Ishimaru shook his head. “You believed them too, Naegi-kun. What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

Naegi blushed once again. “N-nothing! I am just saying that maybe we have all been wrong with our assumptions about Kirigiri. Maybe she deserves to be heard out.”

“But you don’t even know what her specialty is,” Ikusaba remarked. Come to think of it, this was the most Ishimaru had heard her speak in one day. “Why should you trust her when she refuses to share information as simple as that?”

“If you are to talk about me, I suggest you do it to my face, Ikusaba-san.” A clear, smooth voice interrupted from behind her. The four immediately snapped up to see the not-so-amused face of Kyouko Kirigiri.

“K… Kirigiri-san!” Naegi said weakly.

Kirigiri nodded slightly in response. “Naegi-kun. I left something over at your house. Something important. I would like to have it back, please.”

Naegi paled visibly. “I-I left it at home, actually. I’m sorry. I’ll bring it tomorrow, I—”

“I’ll stop by there later after class, then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Naegi-kun,” she spoke with deep sincerity. “It is of the utmost importance that I have it back _immediately._ ”

“Oh. O-of course!”

She looked at him with slightly squinted eyes, then fixed her gaze to all the people seated on the table, then back to Naegi. “I’ll see you around,” she said and walked away.

Naegi looked very shaken. Ishimaru noticed that that happened quite a lot to him whenever Kirigiri was involved.

“Is something the matter, Naegi?” Ishimaru asked.

“She’s gonna kill me. She’s definitely gonna kill me.”

“Why? What did you do?”

Naegi seemed to snap out of his trance, reverting back to his usual expression. He gave Ishimaru a reassuring smile. “Nothing! Just me talking to myself. I’m just being silly, is all.”

“Don’t you ever wonder about him, Ishimaru-kun?” Fujisaki interrupted them, finally choosing to talk again.

“Wonder about what?”

“About Oowada-kun.” Fujisaki’s usually cheerful tone was nowhere to be found. “Don’t you think there’s more to him than you think there is?”

“Can I just ask why you are so intent on defending Oowada, Fujisaki?” Naegi asked.

The programmer shook her head. “This isn’t about me, Naegi-kun. I am asking whether Ishimaru has wondered about Oowada.”

“What is there to wonder about?” asked a confused Ishimaru.

“First of all, don’t you ever wonder where his parents are? You don’t see them around now, do you?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“Also, you mentioned that he was an absolute slob. But I know for a fact that his house is spotless. Don’t you think the two contradict each other?”

“Actually, I have thought about that once…”

“And one last thing. On the last day that you went to his house. When he sped off without a reason, did you stop to think that maybe it was because of an emergency?”

“If it was, then he could have said so instead of speaking to me with such appalling manners!”

“But when you think about it, what kind of situations would make Oowada-kun act in such a way? Do you ever wonder about that, Ishimaru-kun?”

Ishimaru stared intensely at the small girl. Could it be that Fujisaki was right? That there was something completely different underneath Mondo Oowada’s tough, happy-go-lucky exterior?

Now that he thought about it, there were several things that just did not line up about Mondo Oowada. And maybe, _just maybe_ , they were worth checking out.

Ishimaru nodded at her before standing up and walking out of the cafeteria, making his way to their classroom ahead of everyone else. He needed a few moments to think about what Fujisaki just said.

Perhaps she had a point.

Mondo Oowada, as infuriating as he may be, was a puzzle.

And Ishimaru had always been attracted to puzzles.


	4. Somewhat Clearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a good day for Ishimaru.

If heaven could be made concrete and handled and contained as with any other object on Earth, Ishimaru thought that it would definitely take the form of a nice cup of warm coffee. It’s cheap, tasty, gave him a much needed energy boost and accompanied him during his most lonely nights. What’s not to love?

Such was the situation he found himself in one Tuesday morning as he sat on the bleachers of Hope’s Peak’s basketball court. Admittedly the Hall Monitor would never be found in such a place on normal days, but it was the only part of the school that was accessible at 6:30 in the morning, and it had a roof that protected him from the chilly autumn breeze so it wasn’t like he had a choice.

The place was absolutely deserted. Silence met Ishimaru’s ears in an almost unnerving manner, but he brushed his discomfort aside and brought out his science book, propping it up on his lap as he took another sip of his coffee. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, since he had been studying for a particularly challenging biology quiz the following day. _Why, oh why did genetics have to be such a complicated process?_

His eyelids were heavy and his head ached, though the coffee did help a bit with the former. His headaches, though, he wondered why they’d been happening quite a lot recently. The printed text on his book looked sort of muddled somehow. Like they were moving and sliding along the stark white pages in an effort to purposely elude his gaze. He probably needed to get his eyesight checked soon.

He stifled a yawn and flipped a page of his book, the sound echoing loudly through the spacious room. He wrapped both of his hands on his cup of coffee, trying to get his fingers to warm up. Ishimaru had never acclimatized well to cold weather, and now the chilly breeze that met him the moment he set foot on the pavement was announcing its readiness to transition into the unbearable winter months. During such times, his hands were always the first to become unbearably cold. And even he knew that he would look ridiculous if he wore gloves during this time of the year.

He flipped a page.

Silence.

He took another sip.

Silence.

He yawned. Successfully this time.

There were footsteps approaching. 

His heart pounded in his chest. He was too afraid to look towards the gym entrance, not wanting to confirm the looming presence and the sudden sinking feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuckin’ nerd. You study in the gym now? There’s just no gettin’ rid of you, is there?” 

Takashi’s footsteps grew closer until his shadow overlapped with Ishimaru’s. Not wanting to seem small, Ishimaru grabbed his stuff and stood up straight. He kept his face as neutral as possible, not having the guts to look tough, but not wanting to seem intimidated all the same.

“Yes. If it bothers you, then I shall leave now because I have duties to attend to. Good day.” He tried to walk past him, only to have his path blocked by the stocky man.

“What makes you think I’m lettin’ you off easy?” Takashi sneered. “I don’t take well to nerds roaming in my territory as if they’re welcome here.”

Ishimaru stood pin straight, treading careful waters. “Do not be so full of yourself, Takashi. You don’t own this school and I am just as free as anyone else to access it.”

In the split second that it took Ishimaru to blink, Takashi’s fist made its way to Ishimaru’s collar. The movement jostled him as he was pushed back and landed on the floor with a thud. Scalding hot coffee spilled over his neck and chest, making him gasp both in pain and surprise.

“You just don’t get it, do ya, Freak?” Takashi glowered. “Nobody goes by your rules. Heck, nobody even wants ya in here!”

Ishimaru remained silent, not meeting his gaze. He took a deep breath, trying his best to remain calm.

“This is why you’ll never have friends, nerd. That mouth of yours is a fucking curse to all of humanity. So do us all a favor and for god’s sake, _shut up!_ ” 

To Ishimaru’s relief, the senior started to leave. Before he exited completely, he paused. His voice rang with full authority when he spoke.

“ _That_ was for getting me in detention yesterday, by the way. You thank your lucky stars Shuuya and the others aren’t here.”

He cringed. The first and only time that the whole of Takashi’s group came at him, he ended up with a bloody cheek. And that happened right in the halls. Lord knows what would have become of him had they chosen to attack him on an early morning in a deserted gymnasium, with no spectators to help him out.

He sat up, leaned against the bleachers and hugged his knees to his chest. He would not cry. Not over trivial things such as this. After all, this was the price he had to pay for asserting himself. He deserved nothing less.

_It is the path that I was destined for. The path that I must take._

He stared at his knees thoughtfully. When he moved, he tried to make as little noise as possible.

_“Ya know, Taka. In this world, in order to survive, you’ll have to suffer! Suffer, I tell ya! Just like how gold must be purged under the heat of flames before they can be suitable for any use, so must you be.”_

Ishimaru clenched his fists, willing his father’s voice to disappear from his head.

_“The world will burn you, Kiyotaka. It will burn you and pound you to smithereens. And I know ‘em people like to think those rags-to-riches stories to be true, but I’m tellin’ ya right now they ain’t, son. You’ll burn out. And it will be for nothing.”_

His eyes squeezed shut, trying to drown out the voice. He knew better than to remember him now. The man had been gone a long time. Now was not the time to dig up what has long been buried.

He stood up and frowned at his soiled uniform. It was his only uniform, and the coffee stain would be a pain to get rid of, but he had to try.

He ran out of the gym in a hurry. Class would probably start soon anyway, and spending the whole day lamenting on his pitiful past would be a huge waste of time. He pushed them all aside and strode past the school’s entrance with a newfound calm.

But of course, Mondo Oowada just had to be the first face he saw upon entering.

He stopped walking. Oowada was wearing the Hope’s Peak uniform, but it did not seem to look right on him. His shirt was rumpled and untucked and his blazer was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, his long arms dangling out under it instead of fitting in the armholes. His hair did not have its usual coif and it appeared as if he hadn’t slept in days.

But then he looked up at his purple irises and there was that distinct look once again.

_His eyes. His eyes has stories to tell._

“Oowada…”

“You look like hell, Hall Monitor.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, normal people put coffee in their _mouths_.” He raised an eyebrow.

Unable to think of a reply, Ishimaru frowned and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You never dropped by my house yesterday.”

“I assumed that I was unwelcome,” Ishimaru replied stiffly.

“Look, if this is about what happened last week, I admit I shouldn’t have been that harsh to you. Now can you just let it go? Because I really need to pass that math test.”

The prefect took a step back. “You yelled at me. You demeaned me and treated me like… Like an object that was yours to take and get rid of! And you expect me to come to terms with that?”

For the first time since Ishimaru had known him, it would seem that the biker had been stunned to silence.

“I do not understand you, Mondo Oowada.”

“Yeah, well… Nobody ever does.”

Fujisaki’s words echoed in his head. 

“Why?” Ishimaru asked. “What happened last week? Why did you act that way?”

Oowada gritted his teeth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

In that moment, he looked rather defeated. Ishimaru wondered how a man like Mondo Oowada could ever feel that way.

It couldn’t be true. Because if it was, then he was more like Ishimaru than he once thought.

He shook his head. No, it’s definitely not true. He and Oowada could never be the same in any aspect.

So why did he feel sorry for him?

“I will meet you after class, Mondo Oowada,” he said and strode off in the direction of their classroom.

 

Come lunchtime, Ishimaru sat with Naegi’s group once again. He thought maybe he was imposing on them, but Fujisaki assured him that he was not.

The programmer spoke softly to him, so as not to let the others hear. Ishimaru wondered why she had to bother with being so secretive.

“Ishimaru-kun,” she said. “Oowada’s behavior last week… Please excuse him.”

“It’s fine, Fujisaki. I have spoken with him earlier and we will be resuming our tutoring sessions starting today.”

“Ah! That’s good to hear!” she chimed. “But please understand. Oowada-kun is a lot more fragile than he seems to be. He does some things, and most of the time he doesn’t really mean them. Please understand him.”

“What are you talking about? I can’t imagine Japan’s best biker gang leader having any reason to be fragile.”

Fujisaki took a bite of her sandwich. “The former leader of the Crazy Diamonds. Have you heard of him?”

Ishimaru shook his head slowly. “Why? What’s with him?”

“His name was Daiya. Daiya Oowada.” Fujisaki paused to let that sink in. “He was Oowada-kun’s older brother, until he died in a bike-riding accident.”

Ishimaru glared at his food. “Oh.”

“It hasn’t been long,” Fujisaki continued. “Last week was his first death anniversary. As you’ve already seen, Mondo-kun did not take it too well.”

“I never knew that.”

“He looked up to his brother so much. His death ripped him apart.”

Ishimaru couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain it must have caused him.

Of course he would lash out at Ishimaru that day! He probably needed to visit him in the cemetery or something. And he, out of foolishness, yelled back when the biker clearly needed some space. He truly was a selfish person.

Looking back on it, Ishimaru wondered why he hadn’t noticed Fujisaki’s strange attachment to Oowada. Or even why she had referred to him by his first name.

 

“Tell me about your brother, Mondo Oowada,” Ishimaru declared the moment they had taken their usual seats in the living room of the Oowada household.

A strange choking noise went out of the biker’s throat. “Where the fuck did you find out about that?”

“Fujisaki-kun told me. That was why you got mad, wasn’t it? It was the anniversary of his death and you didn’t want me to see—”

“Ishimaru, I am asking you to shut up right now.” 

The look on Oowada’s face was frightening, and it prompted the prefect to immediately stop talking. It was also the first time he heard him address Ishimaru by his real name.

“Anybody ever told you to mind your own business?” Oowada growled. 

“I’m sorry. Did I overstep my boundaries?” He asked innocently.

“ _What the fuck is wrong with you?!_ ” Oowada yelled, standing up on his feet. “You don’t just go around asking people to tell you about their dead brothers! That’s just sick, man!”

The prefect hung his head in shame. This had been his chance to finally get to know Mondo Oowada, and of course he just had to mess it up.

He thought it would turn out different this time. He thought that, if he tried very hard, _maybe_ he could actually turn Mondo Oowada into a friend.

But with the way the gang leader was looking at him, he knew he had done wrong _again_. 

“Why do I even bother?”

“Seriously! I-what?” Oowada stopped abruptly.

Ishimaru did not mean to say that out loud, but as usual his mouth ran off and left his brain behind. He shook his head.

“Nothing. It means nothing. I only wanted to get to know you, Mondo Oowada.”

“That’s not how you get to know people! Fuck! How can you not know this?!” Oowada turned on his back and punched the wall in rage. Ishimaru flinched at the sound of his knuckles smashing against the concrete.

“I am… aware… that social interactions are-are beyond me. Usually.” He tried to stop his voice from shaking. He really did.

Oowada took two steps toward him, hands gripping Ishimaru’s shoulders and shook him violently. His purple eyes were heavy and distraught.

“How about you just learn to be sensitive, huh? Ever thought of _that_? Ever thought that there are some stuff that people _just don’t talk about_?”

“Please, Oowada, let go. Please.”

“Don’t you ever stop to think of anyone but yourself every once in a while?”

“ _Let go of me!_ ”

The biker’s hands flung off his shoulders. Ishimaru backed off, panting. He kept walking backwards, trying to put as much distance between him and Oowada as possible, until he hit the wall.

Oowada, on the other hand, still looked angry.

“This is why you don’t have friends, you see?”

The words felt like a stab to his gut. Ishimaru struggled to maintain his stance even as all the wind was knocked out of him. His tears betrayed him as they rolled freely down his cheeks.

He bowed his head and spoke quietly.

He closed his eyes. He could see Takashi glowering over him clear as day.

“I _despise_ people like you,” he spat out. “You who never had to work hard for anything, to get people to follow you. You who always had men to back you up so you don’t feel like cowards. You who use and abuse that power by using it against helpless people. I detest you. You are all scum, all of you!”

He knew they were not wise words, but he was enraged, and this was his chance to let out everything he’d been wanting to say to everyone that pushed him around and beat him up.

“I know that I am not the best person there is,” he took a deep breath. “You think I don’t remind myself of that every day? When I say things… Sometimes—most of the time… They don’t come out right. And that’s why I don’t have friends.”

Oowada was strangely silent.

“I don’t need people like you telling me that when I know it very well myself. When it’s all everyone’s ever told me ever since I was a kid!”

He looked up at Oowada, unashamed of his tears now. “So if I offended you, I’m sorry. If I keep saying the wrong things, I’m sorry. I understand why you’re mad. Really, I do. I am not as insensitive as other people think I am.”

“Ishimaru—”

“The deal is off.” Ishimaru smiled in spite of the situation. “There are a lot more people who are better suited to tutoring you, Mondo Oowada. As for me, I’ll figure something out.”

He ran out the door, not giving Oowada a chance to reply.

 

Ishimaru always went to the community park whenever he needed to clear his head. It had been a place of comfort for him, growing up in a dysfunctional family. There was something about the sight of happy people against a beautiful scenery that always calmed him down.

The bench he sat on was cold. His fingers were freezing. He wrung them together and blew on them absentmindedly. 

Did he really just stand up to Mondo Oowada?

He sighed. It was his destiny to live alone. Sure, Naegi, Fujisaki, and Ikusaba were with him, but they will leave eventually.

Ishimaru had a perfect record in everything, after all. And that included one in driving people away.

A familiar figure made crossed his peripheral vision, and he followed it to a spot under a nearby tree. 

It was Chihiro Fujisaki.

What was she doing here?

Ishimaru thought to say hello. Maybe a little bit of Fujisaki’s cheerful nature would rub off on him if he went over to her.

Fujisaki waved, not at him but at another approaching person.

Ishimaru was surprised once again to see Mondo Oowada making his way next to Fujisaki.

_What? Are they… meeting up?_

He was just close enough to hear a bit of their conversation.

“Mon-chan!” Fujisaki greeted warmly.

“Hey there, Chi,” Oowada replied in a low voice.

“You’re here early.”

“Yeah, something came up. So I thought I should go straight here.”

“Not another fight with Ishimaru-kun, I hope.” Ishimaru perked up at the sound of his name. “He is a great person, and I would love for you two to be friends.”

Ishimaru stood up and slowly walked towards them. Their voices grew louder and louder with each step.

“Yeah, well, things don’t always turn out the way we want them to,” Oowada responded. “Anyways, you ready to hit the gym, Chi?”

Fujisaki gasped. “Mon-chan! I told you to ask Ishimaru-kun to tutor you so that you can be friends, not so you can fight! Apologize to him straight away!”

The biker let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, Chi, it’s really nice of you, but me and him? It’s fucked up, man. It’ll never work out. Not in a million years. Not even if I wanted to. We’re much better off without him, alright?”

Fujisaki did not respond to this, probably because she was too surprised to see Ishimaru standing close to them, having heard everything.

That’s when Oowada spotted him too, his eyes widening. “I-Ishimaru…”

The prefect stared dejectedly at the two. 

“Is that what you really think of me, Oowada?”


	5. More Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishimaru finds out something that answers some of his queries, and he gets a surprise.

In the next few moments, everything was quiet. Ishimaru, Oowada, and Fujisaki were all stunned silent. Even the kids seemed to have suspected the change in the atmosphere and decided to cease their giggling, though that could only have been subject to Ishimaru’s perception. No cars rushed by and made loud whirring noises with their engines as they sped past. The wind was steady, creating a cool air not enough to be noticed, but was appreciated all the same.

In the distance, the sun was starting to set behind a row of bright orange trees.

“I…” It was Fujisaki who broke the unnerving silence. “I can explain.”

The two boys looked down on her small form. Fujisaki wore a frightened expression, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke.

“Stay out of this, Chihiro,” Oowada commanded. “I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” asked Ishimaru. “What is there to handle? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Ishimaru-kun!” Fujisaki exclaimed.

Oowada took two steps in front of Fujisaki, towards Ishimaru, and locked the hall monitor under a threatening gaze.

“Now listen,” he commanded gruffly. “You will leave, and you will not speak of this to anyone. Understand?”

“Speak of what? What is going on?!” 

“Mondo-kun, stop it! Don’t scare him!”

“Do you really think I’ll let that guy—” the gang leader turned to her and pointed an accusing finger at Ishimaru, “—ruin everything we’ve worked so hard on? Huh?”

“He won’t tell anyone!” she retorted.

“How do you know we can trust him?”

Ishimaru observed the two, trying to process what on earth was going on. There was noise again, noise all over. The kids resumed laughing. The cars sped by. The wind blew strong enough to be heard now. 

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” he asked softly, not wanting to aggravate the argument between the two. They turned to him, Fujisaki with the same frightened look and Oowada still angry.

“Nothing is going on, Hall Monitor. Just go home,” said Oowada.

The prefect stood straight, trying to look just as threatening. “Just this once, Oowada, will you not leave me out of the situation?” he yelled.

The biker started towards him, but Fujisaki pulled on the sleeve of his coat, making him stop.

“Mondo… I’ll tell him,” she said.

“Chi, are you fucking mad?! You can’t tell him!”

Fujisaki stared at her shoes. They were silent again for a few seconds until she looked up again, this time with a determined expression.

“I need to be strong,” she said. “And I need to show you that we can trust Ishimaru-kun.”

“Don’t you dare, Chihiro.”

“Ishimaru-kun.” She walked past Oowada and stood right in front of the hall monitor, who still couldn’t quite make sense of the situation.

“Wh-what is it, Fujisaki-kun?”

She looked up at him, brows furrowed and teeth gritted to gather up strength.

“I am sorry. I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-I always meant to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right time…”

“Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! You didn’t do anything. This is all my fault for fooling everyone into thinking I’m someone that I’m not.”

Ishimaru stared at the small girl. “Fujisaki-kun,” he gulped. “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.”

“But I have to. I can’t keep living my life in a lie.” She gave a weak smile. “You’ll understand. You don’t look like the type to lie, Ishimaru-kun.”

 _You’re making the wrong assumption_ , he thought. _My whole life was spun on a web of lies and deceit._ But he couldn’t tell that to sweet little innocent Fujisaki’s face. In fact, he couldn’t tell anyone. It was the burden he had to carry for the rest of his life.

“If that is the case,” said Ishimaru, “then I sincerely believe that you can do it.”

“I…” she faltered briefly. “I am not a girl.”

As if someone had a pause button for Ishimaru’s life, everything went silent again, all at once.

“Chihiro…” muttered Oowada.

“You… are not a girl?” Ishimaru asked, just in case he hadn’t heard it right.

“Not really. I dress like a girl because… because I didn’t want people to think that I was weak.” Fujisaki nodded. “I am so sorry for lying to you. But if I may request, please don’t tell anyone else. I-I’m not yet ready.”

The prefect couldn’t think of any response. The fact that Fujisaki was a boy wasn’t what most alarmed him. The world had problems more dire than to worry about what gender dictates on any person. What really got to him was how she chose to tell him about it at all. Such a secret as that wasn’t something you would entrust to just anyone, and who exactly was Ishimaru to be deemed worthy of keeping it?

He was a nobody, after all. Oowada was right. Fujisaki shouldn’t have told him, but she did it anyway and Ishimaru was left reeling and wondering how a person so small in form could be capable of that much strength and determination.

In a way, he envied Fujisaki. Mostly, though, he saw her in an entirely new light. It was admiration in its purest form.

Immediately his arms came around Fujisaki’s frame and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

“That was brave of you to tell me. Thank you.”

She hugged him back. Ishimaru could feel a spot of wetness pooling on his chest. Fujisaki was crying.

“Hey,” Oowada said, softer this time, much to the prefect’s surprise. “No crying now. We talked about the crying already.”

Ishimaru shot him a deathly glare. “There is nothing wrong with a man crying, Mondo Oowada. It is an act of nobility, and it tells of a person’s willingness to open themselves to others."

The biker averted his gaze and didn’t reply.

Ishimaru looked down at Fujisaki. “People who don’t cry, they are cowards. It is always the people who cry that are the strongest.”

Fujisaki pulled back and wiped her tears. “Is that really true?”

Ishimaru nodded. “You are no less of a man for crying, Fujisaki-kun. And I do not think you any different no matter what gender you wish to presume. Though I feel the need to assure you, your secret will be safe with me, as it is not even mine to tell in the first place.”

Her smile was grateful as she took a step back and placed a hand on Oowada’s arm.

“Ishimaru-kun, you really are a great person! Isn’t he, Mon-chan?”

The biker grunted. “Depends on what your standards of a great person are.”

“But wait a minute!” Ishimaru chimed. “I still don’t know what you are doing here. You two are friends?”

Fujisaki nodded. Oowada, on the other hand, scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“B-but how? I’ve never even seen you talk to each other!”

“I think you’ve had too much information for one day, Hall Monitor,” Oowada shot. “Any more will definitely be pushing it.”

The prefect complied and shut his mouth. It appeared that Oowada was talking to him half-decently at least. He may have said some extreme words to the gang leader, but he didn’t wish to be on his bad side.

It may already be too late for that, though.

The sun had set completely, covering the them under a veil of darkness that signified the end of another day. It filled Ishimaru with an odd feeling of sudden, disconcerting exposure that he wished himself not to dwell on. 

Fujisaki spoke up. “If you guys don’t mind, I think I’ll go home now.”

Oowada turned to her. “You gonna be alright?” he asked gently.

“I’m not a kid, Mon-chan! I can take care of myself. My house isn’t that far anyway, and I’m just really tired.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Fujisaki-kun,” said Ishimaru as he held up an arm into a stiff wave. “We must also get started on our English project soon.”

She giggled at this. “Oh yeah, I nearly forgot about that. Mon-chan, take Ishimaru home, will you? Thanks again. See ya!”

And with that, she sped off into the distance, disappearing behind a corner, leaving Ishimaru and Oowada alone. 

The biker leaned back on the tree and stared at the ground.

The tension between the two of them was so palpable, you could cut it with a knife. Ishimaru rubbed his elbow, looking straight at Oowada. “You don’t have to, you know. Take me home, I mean. I’m fine with walking alone.”

“Yo, Hall Monitor,” he spoke, but his head was bowed in a way that made him look almost abashed. “What you did back there, t’was good. I appreciate it.”

For the tenth time, he was stunned silent by Mondo Oowada. What was good, exactly? How he had responded to Fujisaki’s confession? Well, how else was he supposed to act? Did Oowada really expect him to shout at her face and turn her away? Ishimaru couldn’t even comprehend that degree of cruelty, and besides, he liked Fujisaki and it wasn’t as if she intended to hurt anyone with her actions. So why was Oowada treating him as if he’d done something selfless and holy?

“I only did what any person would have in that situation,” Ishimaru replied.

The gang leader shook his head. “I know one or two people who wouldn’t have. That I learned from experience.”

“Is that why you are so skeptical of me? Do you really think that lowly of me?” Ishimaru didn’t say it angrily, it was just that he needed an honest response.

Oowada’s purple irises came into view. His eyes were an odd thing. Something about them made Ishimaru want to forget all his perceptions of Mondo Oowada and simply unveil him as a person, to lock in on him and peel away all the layers that shrouded him entirely. He couldn’t understand why he felt that way for _him_ of all people, and he knew how strange the thought was. But it was times like these when he could just look at the gang leader and see him as a friend crying out.

He banished the thought completely. Mondo Oowada was not and will never be a friend. That he was certain of.

“I gotta admit, you aren’t the person I thought you were,” Oowada remarked. “You are twice the man I will ever be, Hall Monitor.”

“Are you insane? Why are you saying all these things, Oowada?”

Oowada stood straight and began walking towards Ishimaru, a hint of a smile on his face.

“I’ll take you home. I don’t mind,” he said, ignoring Ishimaru’s questions and fishing his keys from his pocket.

Ishimaru glanced nervously at the keys, disdain written all over his features. “I-I would rather not, thank you. Walking’s fine.”

The biker shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He began walking to his bike and paused suddenly. “It’s not off, by the way.”

Ishimaru cocked his head in confusion. “What is?”

“The deal. I never agreed that it was off.”

The prefect furrowed his thick brows. Why was Oowada saying all this when he was supposed to hate his guts?

“I-I thought…”

“You said something about words not coming out right when you talk. It’s the same with me. I can’t promise I won’t yell at you or hurt your feelings because I definitely will and you better suck it up like a man or I’ll beat the crap out of you.”

The prefect winced at the edge in his words.

“See? It happened again.” The biker growled and shook his head. “I’m scaring you, aren’t I? I’m working on that, I promise I am. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Old… habits?”

“Basically, all I’m trying to say is that you better get your ass over at my house tomorrow because we still have some math shit to attend to. You understand?”

Ishimaru hesitated before replying. “A-alright. That is… I have no idea why I’m agreeing to this, but alright.”

“I’ll see you then.” Oowada grunted and got on his motorcycle. Not ten seconds later, he was gone from Ishimaru’s sight.

He took the long walk back home and tried to process everything that had just happened, and found that he only had more questions than answers. He sought to get to the bottom of them eventually.

But for now, he just couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was getting himself into something much bigger than he could imagine.

 

At this point, Ishimaru couldn’t even be bothered to act surprised whenever Takashi would pop out from god knows where during the times he believed he was having a pretty good day. The guy had a flair for ruining everything that’s good, after all.

And of all the things he could be doing, it just _had_ to be running in the halls.

Ishimaru had a huge pet peeve for people running in the halls. The act was hazardous, juvenile, and unnecessary. But there were just some men who were too dumb to understand that.

Takashi was passing around a baseball with a couple of his cronies. Ishimaru nearly bumped into him as he sped past him in the halls, holding the ball tightly in his hands.

“You! No running in the halls!” Ishimaru bellowed in his esteemed Hall Monitor voice. He knew he was only looking for trouble, but he couldn’t stop himself. Those who broke the rules simply must be punished for their ignorance.

Upon hearing his voice, Takashi stopped and turned to him, a disgusting sneer etched on his face.

“Look what we have here! What the fuck’re you complainin’ about _now_?”

“Running in the halls is against the school rules.” Ishimaru brought out a detention slip and held it out to the larger man. “You are to be present in detention later for running _and_ swearing.”

Takashi let out a disturbing gaze. He shook his head slowly, taking the detention slip from Ishimaru and ripping it in half. He shoved Ishimaru’s shoulder, causing the prefect to slam against the wall. Ishimaru’s head rebounded a couple of times and he let out a gasp in pain.

 “Listen here, ya little shithead!” Takashi grabbed his collar and held it up. “I don’t give a shit about your fucking rules and your fucking detention slips. I warned you many times and you still don’t listen. Yer a tough one, aren’t ya?”

Ishimaru glowered at him.

Takashi held a fist in front of his face. “Would you like to be reminded?”

“Takashi, if you have any sense of reason at all, I suggest you let go of him right now,” a familiar gruff voice erupted from somewhere nearby. Shocked, Takashi dropped his hold on Ishimaru and looked around.

“M-Mondo Oowada!” Takashi called out in recognition. Fear laced his features, even though he tried to suppress it. 

“I’ll take this one, if you don’t mind.” Ishimaru stared at Oowada in confusion as the latter’s hand came around his wrist and pulled him to his side.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re actually protecting this guy! He’s a pain in the ass, he is. You know that very well. Don’t you remember the good old times, Oowada?”

The biker narrowed his eyes. “There was no ‘good old times’. And he was just doing his job. No need to be a huge prick about it.”

The two men’s gazes were locked intensely, sizing each other up. Takashi was older than Oowada, but Oowada was no doubt bigger and taller, and the fact that he had an entire gang of outlaws under his command wasn’t too shabby either. Ishimaru could see plain as day that the odds were not split evenly between them.

Takashi bowed his head in surrender. It was a silent admission of defeat, which Oowada acknowledged with a simple nod.

“Let’s go, Ishimaru,” Oowada said as they started walking away from the senior. Ishimaru could only gape up at him. Oowada placed his hand on the small of Ishimaru’s back, not meeting his gaze.

Behind them, Takashi threw in a fake coughing fit and made a remark for only Ishimaru to hear.

“ _Faggot._ ”

The word met his ears clearly. It pierced through his barrier of safety and struck him straight to the core. He tensed up in fear, his entire body becoming rigid under the gentle touch of Oowada’s hand on his back.

What happened after that occurred so quickly, Ishimaru barely even had time to process it as it unfolded before his eyes. In one swift motion, Oowada’s touch disappeared as the biker turned back to Takashi, eyes seething with pure rage as he swung his fist back and into Takashi’s face.

There was the sound of bones breaking. Sure enough when Oowada pulled back, blood was gushing out of the senior’s nose.

“I dare you to lay a hand on him again.” Oowada was absolutely menacing, and he was looking at Takashi as if he were gum under his shoe. “The next time you even think about it, remember that he is under _my_ protection.”

“Fuck you,” Takashi replied before swiftly turning back and running away from the scene.

“Are you okay?” Oowada asked as he took a step towards the prefect.

Ishimaru shook his head and took two steps back. He was still gaping at the taller man. His knees were trembling.

“Hey, Ishimaru, are you alright?” He held out a hand to Ishimaru, but the latter flinched away from him.

“Don’t touch me, please,” he said feebly. His mind was telling him he was saying all the wrong things again, but this time he did not know how to make it right. “I just… Just stay away.”

“Fuck! Ishimaru, I-I didn’t mean to scare you, I swear.”

“I apologize, Mondo Oowada.”

“What? What’re you saying sorry for?”

But Ishimaru had already fled from his spot by the time Oowada finished talking. The prefect stumbled a little and took a moment to regain his footing.

He leaned against a wall and took in a couple of deep breaths.

Since when did Oowada start showing any concern for him? The way he reacted when Takashi insulted Ishimaru was unreal. And the hand on his back made him feel safe and Ishimaru hadn’t felt like that in _years._

He held a hand to his pounding head and closed his eyes.

Of all the people who could’ve witnessed the scene, of all the students and staff of Hope’s Peak that roamed the halls at any given notice…

Why on earth did it have to be Mondo Oowada?


	6. Soul Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They set aside their differences to find they are not so different after all.

Ishimaru thought that he had made remarkable progress in socialization over the past few weeks. After all, he was interacting with more people lately than he ever had in his entire life. The experience in particular has been rather… _educational_ for him.

If only he could understand what on earth was going on.

In the span of less than two weeks, he had made a sort-of friend and attempted to give him dating advice, he’d found a group of people to eat lunch with instead of sitting with the teachers like he used to, someone he thought was a girl turned out not to be one, and he had experienced a rather frustrating relationship with a certain gang leader.

Mondo Oowada was a ladder—and no, that was not a reference to his ridiculous height, though it could be thought of that way. With his slippery rungs, worn and rickety, Oowada was a ladder that ascended to abstraction and Ishimaru was constantly climbing up and down on it, switching back and forth between his two modes until it drove him mad and left him utterly perplexed.

Ishimaru feared the day that he would fall off completely and land hard, smashing himself on the concrete.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed someone occupying the seat beside him. That was good. Maybe Naegi will help him understand.

“Naegi,” he called. “I am confused.”

The shorter boy turned to him, expression thoughtful. “What about?”

“Mondo Oowada is suddenly very nice to me. What does that mean?”

Naegi raised an eyebrow. A hint of amusement lit up his eyes. “I think, Ishimaru, that means he wants to be your friend.”

Ishimaru was startled. “I-ah, what? Why would he want me to be his friend?”

“Why wouldn’t he? You said you guys were getting along, right?”

“Err… Not entirely…”

Naegi shrugged. “All I know is that if a person is nice to you, usually that means he wants to be friends.”

“I-Is that so?” Ishimaru mumbled.

“Yeah! I’m sure of it.”

Ishimaru turned thoughtful as he placed his hands on his desk and fiddled with his fingers. He’d never really thought of friendship working that way before. He always supposed that relationships of any sort were a give and take situation, and the slightest stutter in that agreement would send the whole thing spiraling down. That was the primary reason he avoided relationships in the past. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Naegi?”

“Yeah?”

“You and I… we’re friends, aren’t we?”

There was a breath of silence between them.

“Of course we are,” replied Naegi, laughing softly. “Did you really think that we weren’t?”

Ishimaru remained stoic and did not reply. Naegi’s laughter subsided.

“Oh.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Naegi. This is new territory for me.”

“Look, I know the past hasn’t been very kind to you, but I want you to know that we accept you.” Naegi gave him a reassuring smile. “And we’re all your friends. Fujisaki, especially. I can see she already likes you very much.”

Ishimaru glanced briefly at the programmer from across the room. She was deep into the novel that she was reading, oblivious to the noise and chaos of her surroundings and that crumpled balls of paper from slingshots were narrowly missing her as Kuwata and Hagakure fired shots at each other repeatedly. 

“You’ll get better with people eventually,” Naegi continued. “You’ll make more friends and you’ll treasure a lot of people in the future. And then you’ll look back on this moment and wonder why you ever thought you were incapable of making it.”

“Your optimism astounds me.”

“I get that a lot.” He grinned.

Kyouko Kirigiri entered the classroom. Ishimaru noted how Naegi’s eyes followed her all the way as she took her seat in the back corner of the room.

“Naegi?”

“Hm?” Naegi wasn’t even looking at him.

“Since we are apparently friends, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Kirigiri-kun?” A couple of heads turned their way at Ishimaru’s booming voice. Naegi turned beet red, expression mortified.

“You might wanna keep your voice down a bit, Ishimaru.”

The prefect panicked briefly and lowered his voice. “Oh. I apologize.”

“It’s fine.”

“ _So do you?_ ”

“—GAH!” Naegi yelped in surprise, for the prefect had leaned over his shoulder and whispered directly in his ear.

Ishimaru laughed. A full hearty laugh that was a rarity to him. 

“I-I, ahh… It’s not like that at all,” he stammered. He then frowned. “Wait a minute, since when did you start being interested in the girls that I liked?”

“I was under the impression that this is what friends normally talk about. Correct me if I am wrong, Naegi.”

The shorter boy sighed. “No, you’re not wrong. I guess. But I barely even know Kirigiri-san!”

“I’m not so sure about that. You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with her lately.”

“It’s just cause we’re partners in a project!”

“You know, I am beginning to get very suspicious of your project meet ups. What is it that you do there exactly?”

“Since when did _you_ become capable of teasing other people about their love life?”

“Since today! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Naegi slapped a hand on the side of his face.

“I am learning! I swear to you, Makoto Naegi, I will be the greatest friend in the world!”

Ishimaru noted a smile on Naegi’s face. _So far so good._

“It’s alright, Ishimaru. She probably forgets my existence when we’re not working on our project anyway, so please don’t trouble yourself.”

 

Kirigiri sat with them at lunch that day.

It happened with no warning, and she didn’t make a big fuss about it either. She simply walked over to their table and seated herself between Fujisaki and Ikusaba as if she’d done so hundreds of times before. Everyone at the table was surprised, and confused, by this action.

“Ah, hello, Kirigiri-san!” Fujisaki greeted her, but it was evident from her tone that she too was shocked, and just the slightest bit terrified.

Kirigiri remained stoic and hummed only in reply. She ate her food quietly, not paying any attention to the four pairs of eyes that were on her.

Ishimaru turned to Naegi. He looked nervous.

“Did you want to talk about our project, Kirigiri-san?”

Kirigiri shook her head.

“A-alright.”

Ishimaru raised his brows at Naegi, who only shrugged.

No one dared to speak, so they ate their food in silence instead.

They were like that for the next few minutes, no one daring to break the silence. It wasn’t that Kirigiri was an unpleasant presence, it was just that they had no idea how best to approach her. Ishimaru felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see a frowning Mondo Oowada standing behind him.

“Hey, I need to have a talk with you.”

“Can’t it wait? I am eating with my _friends_ , Mondo Oowada.”

Oowada rolled his eyes. “Of course. Wouldn’t wanna break up the little Breakfast Club.”

Fujisaki choked on her drink.

Ishimaru was confused. “Breakfast… Club?” 

They heard a roar of laughter coming from a few tables away.

Leon Kuwata yelled from where he sat. “Mondo, what’s taking you so long? You gotta see this new bet I’m taking!” 

Oowada groaned. “Can’t you wait just this once, Kuwata? It’ll only take a sec.”

The baseball star made a big show of waving his hands in the air and gracefully flipped him off.

Ishimaru stood up. “Hey! That behavior is not acceptable in a school environment!”

“Let it go, Hall Monitor,” said Oowada as he put a hand on Ishimaru’s shoulder. “I’m telling you now that dude ain’t worth any of your troubles.”

“I will not tolerate—”

“I know, I know. ‘Rules, discipline, no running in the halls’ and shit.” The hand on his shoulder moved to the top of his head. Amusement shone in his eyes as he stared down at Ishimaru with a mocking smile. “I’ll see ya later, HM.” He patted his head once and walked back to his own table.

Ishimaru clenched his fists.

“Absolutely insufferable, I tell you!”

 

The walk to Oowada’s house seemed ten times longer than usual. Ishimaru couldn’t determine if this was because he was excited for or dreading his arrival. He could not understand the gang leader at all since he seemed to be shifting constantly between an aggressive hoodlum swearing and punching people, and cheery joker with a surprising caring streak. Sometimes he wondered if such a personality was considered normal for humans, or if Oowada was even a human at all.

At last, he arrived and found that Oowada was already waiting for him by the front door. The moment he spotted Ishimaru, he stepped forward and held out a hand in front of him.

Ishimaru stared at it, perplexed.

“Shake it,” said the biker.

“Why should I?”

“Cause it’s necessary.”

“Necessary for what?”

“Temporary truce.”

“What do we need a temporary truce for?”

“Cause we’ll be right at each other’s throats if we don’t have one. Face it, Hall Monitor. Today, we need to accomplish something bigger than what we usually do.”

The prefect contemplated what he said and found that it made sense. He nodded and shook his hand.

They entered the house. Everything was how it usually was, but instead of Oowada taking a seat in the living room, he went straight upstairs. Ishimaru stood still.

Oowada looked back at him. “You coming?”

“Where are we going?”

“My room, of course. Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Ishimaru had a feeling they weren’t going to do much studying that day.

He trudged up the stairs, two steps behind Oowada. He was led through a narrow hallway and they stopped in front of a door on the right side.

Oowada opened the door to his room.

Ishimaru didn’t even doubt it. This was definitely Mondo Oowada’s room. It was in complete disarray, clothes and gaming consoles scattered all over the floor. Even the _smell_ indicated that it was definitely a man’s room.

Ishimaru wrinkled his nose. He stepped inside and was overcome with the urge to _clean,_ to _fix_. One by one, he picked up the clothes on the floor.

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Your room could use a little cleaning, Mondo Oowada.” He picked up two more pieces of clothing and hung them on his arm.

“Stop that! It’s fine the way it is!”

“No!” Ishimaru shot him a glare. “ _This_ isn’t fine. Your items are not organized, and let’s not even mention the bacteria that’s probably already breeding from the chip bags you leave on the floor!”

“Yeah, but this is _my_ room! And—hey, don’t touch that!” He walked swiftly towards Ishimaru, who was holding in his hands a huge black coat. On its back, the words _Crazy Diamonds_ were written on it.

Oowada snatched the coat from his grasp. The act startled the prefect, he let out a loud yelp and frowned at the taller man. His eyes swept over the patterns on the back of the coat.

“That’s the name of your gang, isn’t it? The Crazy Diamonds?”

Oowada nodded. “This coat is a symbol of my status as a leader. I’d appreciate if you kept your hands off it.”

“I’m sorry. Can I just ask something? Why did you become a gang leader?”

“What do ya mean? It’s what I was destined to be. I was destined to succeed my brother. That’s why.”

“How long do you intend on doing so? Such a lifestyle isn’t very practical, Mondo Oowada.”

The biker stared up at the ceiling and took two deep breaths. “Hall Monitor,” he let out, low and menacing. “For now, just understand that there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep the gang together, alright?”

Ishimaru nodded. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know that it was special to you. I can understand if I’ve made you mad.”

The gang leader set the coat on top of his desk and turned back to Ishimaru. “We’re having none of that shit, Hall Monitor. Temporary truce, remember?”

Ishimaru’s face lit up instantly. “Yes! No fighting! No yelling! I am really liking this temporary truce of yours, Mondo Oowada.”

“Wow, you really are a dork.”

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

Oowada shook his head. “Not on you, it’s not.”

Ishimaru grinned. He took Oowada’s clothes from his arm and gently folded them one by one. “So what did you want to talk about?”

The gang leader suddenly looked nervous. “Alright. Just—hey, can you _not_ fold my clothes while I talk, for god’s sake?”

“Why?” Ishimaru asked, still folding.

“Cause it’s fucking weird, man!”

Ishimaru finished folding another shirt and set it on top of the pile he had made. Oowada’s eyes were on him as he carefully picked up the folded clothes in his arms, walked to the dresser, and placed them inside the drawers.

He turned back to the gang leader, beaming. “There. _Now_ I can stop.”

“You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

Ishimaru laughed. “I don’t like messy rooms. I see no reason why that is weird.” He looked about the room, trying to see if there was anything else that needed to be put in their proper places. Obviously there was still a lot.

His eyes stopped on Oowada’s study desk where, admittedly, there didn’t look to be much studying done. It was completely empty, save for the Crazy Diamonds jacket that Oowada set on it and, peeking out from under it, a single small book. “You like to read?” He made his way over to the desk and took out the book. It was an old and worn copy of _Fahrenheit 451._

“Ah, no. Actually…” Oowada spoke softly. “That’s not mine. I-It’s my brother’s.”

Ishimaru turned the book on its back and skimmed over the print. “Your brother’s?”

He nodded. “That was his favorite book. He always was the smarter one. I can never understand a thing of it.”

“ _How many times can a man go down and still be alive?_ ”

“Er, what?”

The prefect turned back to him, hugging the book to his chest, his ruby red eyes wide with wonder. “It’s my favorite book, too.”

Oowada brows disappeared behind his huge mop of hair. “You serious?”

Ishimaru turned to a random page as he sat down on the floor. Oowada followed, seating himself in front of the prefect, much like their positions during their tutoring sessions.

Ishimaru’s eyes glistened with familiarity as he read the lines from the book. “It’s been so long.”

“I gotta admit, I never pegged you as a reading for leisure type.”

His eyes shot back up to Oowada’s. “I don’t. At least, not anymore. When I was a kid, my dad had a huge collection of books in our old house.”

“Must be nice for a nerd like you.”

Ishimaru nodded gleefully. “You have no idea! Most days I refused to leave that room. _Fahrenheit 451_ was my favorite.”

“Then what happened?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘It’s been so long’. What happened?”

“Uh, that was so long ago. Back when… back when we still had money and my dad was still with us.”

The two were silent for a while after that, both knowing that they were approaching precarious territory.

Ishimaru fiddled with the pages of the book, feeling the rough texture of the pages against the pads of his fingers in an effort to calm him down.

“Is it really a good book?” asked Oowada.

“Yes, it is! It is so cleverly written, and it shows political aspects that I wish I understood already back when I first read it. If you want, I can tell you all about it. I don’t mind.”

Oowada only hummed in reply, but his eyes were soft and his expression was almost serene.

“Oowada?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not going to study anything today, are we?”

“Nope.”

“As I thought. I’m not happy about that, you know.”

“Let _me_ handle my own problems. It’s not as if boy genius like you would be in any trouble if I don’t study for one damn day.”

Ishimaru cringed visibly, and suddenly his eyes were on fire.

“Do not call me that!”

“Call you what? A genius? That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

Ishimaru looked just about ready to punch him. “Don’t confuse me with someone like that!”

“What?”

Ishimaru clenched his fists repeatedly, trying to keep a cool head. He sighed. “Have you heard of Toranosuke Ishimaru, former Prime Minister? He’s my grandfather.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool.”

“Now _he_ was a genius. He did everything perfectly without so much as making the slightest effort. That, unfortunately, also became his downfall.”

“Ishimaru, I didn’t know. I’m sor—“

“Do you understand now?” Ishimaru yelled. “When he left his position as Prime Minister, all his businesses failed and he left my family in so much debt that to this day we can’t find a way out of it. My father turned to drinking, and we had to sell nearly all our possessions… and… and…” 

“Hey, calm down now…”

Ishimaru closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper at a time like this.

“A genius. A person who is intelligent, but knows nothing of the importance of hard work and effort, who gets what they want without even trying. Don’t ever confuse me with someone like that.”

He turned to look at Oowada, who seemed shellshocked at his speech. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again.”

Ishimaru calmed down. They were getting out of topic, and he still had a lot of questions after all. And he was not about to let this opportunity of a temporary truce pass by.

He picked up _Fahrenheit 451_ from where he had dropped it during his outburst. His eyes traced the fiery patterns on the cover.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ishimaru gulped, “If you say this belonged to your brother, what is it doing in here?”

The biker shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… Daiya loved that book so much. He used to never shut up about it, really. Sometimes I pick it up and just try to understand him, you know? He was a very smart guy, well on his way to college before he died. I just really want to view the world from his eyes, cause he always made stuff less confusing for me. I was hoping that book would help.”

Ishimaru felt a dose of sympathy for him. It seemed as if he really did look up to his brother. There was a certain vulnerability to his current state, too. There was no doubt that his brother’s untimely departure left him lost and broken. He could only imagine the hurt that the biker was going through at the moment.

“He sounds like a wonderful guy.”

“Yeah, he was. You remind me an awful lot of him, actually.”

Ishimaru was startled at this. “Wh-what do you mean by that? In what way do I resemble your older brother, Mondo Oowada?”

Oowada took a second to look at him and slowly shook his head. “Nah, it’s nothing. Must’ve been my imagination.”

Ishimaru took a long hard look at Oowada, focused on the way his eyes shifted from left to right as if he were nervous or uncertain, on the way his leg stretched out in front of him and shook lightly at the joint, and it hit him completely that this was Mondo Oowada opening up to him.

Him, of all people.

“Oowada?”

“Eh?”

“If you want me to be your friend, you only have to say so.”

The gang leader was obviously taken aback by this. “I-I didn’t… I mean, I don’t! Just—argh!”

Ishimaru was crestfallen. “Oh. It seems I have misinterpreted your actions.”

“No! That’s not it at all!” Oowada groaned loudly. “I mean, fine! Sure!”

The prefect perked up once again. “You mean it?”

Oowada rubbed his neck awkwardly and nodded.

Ishimaru beamed. He made a quick note to thank Naegi profusely the next time he saw him. “We are friends! I am making remarkable progress in this department. Oh, this is so exciting!”

“Come on, man, no need to be such a dork about it. It’s just us being bros and all.”

Ishimaru paused, instantly reverting back to his stoic manner. “Us being ‘bros’? That is, that’s like a brother, isn’t it? I’ve never had a brother. I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Really? Well, it’s great, man. Having a brother was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“You really love Daiya-kun, don’t you?” 

Oowada burned holes at the floor with his gaze. “‘Course I do. Growing up, our parents weren’t around very much. T’was always just me and him. And now even he’s gone.”

“That settles it, then! _I_ will be your new brother, Mondo Oowada!”

“What? Wait… _What?_ ”

Ishimaru pumped his fist in the air. “For you, I will be the best kyoudai the world has ever seen!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Can’t be serious? I was _born_ serious!”

“Dude, do you even know what you’re saying?”

“It’s alright to be a bit disillusioned, kyoudai,” Ishimaru stated smugly. “After all, there is still much ahead of you, but we will work on that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Starting with _that!_ From now on, I do not want you cussing. As your kyoudai it is my duty to ensure you a life of success and prosperity. I fear your habits might impede your progress. I hope you realize how much potential you have!”

Oowada put a hand on his shoulder. The act silenced him instantly. For a second Ishimaru feared that he had angered the biker, but his face was calm and amused. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His purple irises were shining brightly. Ishimaru felt a bit dizzy staring into them.

“Hey,” Oowada spoke gently. “No need to get so fired up about it. I’m not exactly the best brother around.”

With his face up so close, Ishimaru found it hard to talk coherently. “I-I won’t. I mean, I’m sorry if I went too far. Though I would still want you to stop swearing.”

Oowada’s hand slid down to his arm and gave a soft squeeze. 

“A carpenter, by the way.”

“What?” Ishimaru asked, confused.

“Earlier you asked me what I plan to do in the future. I wanna be a carpenter.” Oowada had on the most sincere expression Ishimaru had ever seen on him, and he knew that he was telling nothing but the truth. “Up until now I’ve always been breaking things. I think I should start making them instead.”

“Oowada…” Ishimaru gulped down the ball of nervousness forming at his throat due to Oowada’s close proximity and did his best to form a proper response. “That is so different from my first impression of you.”

A slight blush appeared on his cheeks. Oowada dropped his hand and leaned back. “Yeah, but it’s not like it’s gonna happen anyway.”

“What are you talking about, kyoudai? With hard work and effort, you can do anything!”

They kept talking like that, and the next thing they knew hours had gone by and it was dark outside. Ishimaru was sad to go, but he was comforted by the fact that he would see his new kyoudai again the next day.

Things were finally looking up for Kiyotaka Ishimaru. And the mysteries surrounding Mondo Oowada were starting to become a bit clearer.

 

Oowada surprised everyone by taking a seat next to Ishimaru at lunch the next day. The table was becoming crowded very quickly.

Five pairs of eyes were trained on him.

Oowada looked back at all of them. “What? You got a problem with it?” He put on his most threatening look, but when his eyes settled on Ishimaru, it faltered instantly.

“Kyoudai.” Ishimaru’s beam was so big it nearly split his face in half. “Welcome to the Breakfast Club!”


	7. Oddball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naegi meets someone unlike any he'd ever met before. And now he fears for his life.

When Makoto Naegi woke up that morning, he had no idea that the events that will unfold that day will be the catalyst for the changing of his whole life.

He could smell breakfast coming from the kitchen, where his mother was already serving up plates for each of them. He took a seat next to his sister, who looked even more tired and groggy than he did, as was usual.

“For goodness’ sake, Komaru-chan, do you _ever_ follow your bedtime schedule?” Naegi’s mother griped as she set the food on the dining table. “I swear, if I catch you late on the internet one more time, I’ll—”

Komaru yawned loudly, stretching her arms with abandon, almost swatting Naegi in the face. “Mm-yeah, sure. Promise.”

Naegi’s father took a seat across from him and flashed them both a big smile. “Morning, kiddos. How’s school?”

“Fine,” was Komaru and Naegi’s automatic response. It’s not that they were bothered by their father’s inquisition, it was just that they both weren’t very good company in the mornings.

“You kids need a ride to school? Looks like I’ve got a few minutes to spare before I need to get to work.”

“I don’t mind,” said Komaru.

“Actually, I’d rather take my bike,” answered Naegi. “But thanks.”

His mother let out a soft gasp. “You be careful out there, alright? There’s all sorts of dangers going around.”

“Mom, there’s _always_ danger around. Well, by your definition of the word ‘danger’ anyway.” Komaru rolled her eyes.

Their father interrupted. “I wouldn’t put it past her this time. Have you seen the news lately? Dreadful!”

“Something wrong, dad?” Naegi asked.

“New serial killer out on the loose. Terrible, really. Already claimed three victims—two male, one female.”

“Ooh, I _love_ murders!” Komaru bounced up and down in her seat. “How were they killed?”

“Not while on the dining table, Komaru-chan!” scolded his mother. Komaru ignored her.

“How, dad?”

Their father shrugged. “Nothing exciting, really. Just used this special poison that was supposed to be stored in a top secret facility or something. Government these days, just can’t trust ‘em no more.”

Komaru pouted. “That’s no fun.”

“Do they have any thoughts about who might’ve done it?” Naegi asked.

“I’ve heard none so far. My take is military personnel, most probably, seeing as they were the only ones who knew of the poison’s existence to begin with.”

“Makoto, you be careful out there! Don’t stay out too late, alright?” said his mother.

He nodded. “Yeah, I admit that does sound pretty scary. You’ve nothing to worry about, though. What’re the chances that the killer will come for _me_ after all?”

 

It all started when he drew her name out of the hat. _Kyouko Kirigiri._ The girl who would change his life and turn his world upside down.

“So, ah, Kirigiri-san, do you have any ideas for what we can do for our project?” he asked, a bit awkward, seeing as this was his first time talking to her.

Her lavender eyes were stone cold as they landed on him. She looked him up and down, taking in all of him. He was uncomfortably exposed under her gaze. “We will write a murder mystery.”

“M-murder mystery? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Don’t you want to work on some comedy or a biographical account or something?”

“Naegi.” She fixed him with a steady gaze. “I want to write a murder mystery. Are you with me or not?”

“It’s not like I have a choice, huh?”

“You are quite easy to convince. So easily trusting of other people.” Her gloved hands made their way to her chest, her fingers spread out over her heart. “That will be your downfall someday, you know.”

“Uh… Yes?”

“Then I will go to your house this weekend so that we can start out some of the details.”

“Oh. Um, yeah sure! Alright!”

She continued to stare at him, expression stoic. He wanted to hide and curl up under its intensity. Gosh, why did she make him so nervous?

“Um… Naegi?”

“Yes?”

“Your address?”

“Oh! Um… Yeah, I mean, of course. I’ll just… uh, write it down.” He scrambled back to his seat, hoping that his face wasn’t so red.

Kirigiri remained unfazed. Did she ever show _any_ emotion? 

Kyouko Kirigiri was a peculiar case. Naegi, who was usually a natural with engaging other people in conversation, was left speechless by this girl. He didn’t want to say that he was scared of her, because that might be a harsh way to put things. But if he was being completely honest with himself then yes, he was a bit afraid of her to a certain extent. Kirigiri just had this aura that warded people off of her. He didn’t know how to explain it. She was of a whole other world.

All he wanted was a decent project partner. Well, at least Kirigiri didn’t seem like the type to wing out an important project. In fact, she was very enthusiastic about it. What was up with that?

When he handed her the strip of paper with his address on it, he had a feeling he was going to get a lot more than he bargained for.

 

When Naegi announced to his family that he would be having a lady over, he regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He probably could have phrased that better.

“Oh, the day has finally come! I’m so glad you’re introducing her to us, Makoto-chan!” his mother cooed.

“No! No! You’ve got it all wrong! She’s just a classmate of mine and we’re just gonna work on our project for a bit.”

“Yeah, mom. Onii-chan couldn’t even get a date for his junior high dance, remember?”

“Hey!”

“No fighting, you two,” their mother interrupted. “Now, Makoto-chan, girlfriend or not, tell your partner she is welcome here. Komaru-chan, don’t you have homework?”

Komaru had two arms behind her head on the sofa, her legs already propped up on the coffee table. At her mother’s words she frowned and pursed her lips. “But it’s _so_ hard! Onii-chan could help me!”

“What? I will not!”

“Yes, you will.” Komaru stood up from her seat and latched onto his arm. “Because I’m your baby sister and you love me, right?”

She looked up at him with her bright eyes. It was then he became aware of how strikingly they resembled each other. He knew from past experience that he couldn’t stay mad at her for long, and so he settled for nodding in defeat.

“Great!” Komaru exclaimed, running to her backpack and taking out some books and papers. She tossed them to Naegi. “You can start by solving my math homework. You’re good with that, right?”

“No, I’m really not.”

She shrugged. “Consider this your study time, then. I’ll be in my room if you need me!”

“Wait, you mean I have to do this myself? Komaru, this is _your_ homework!”

“Yeah, and my big bro’s a Hope’s Peak student, so no biggie, right?” She smiled, winked, and bounded up the stairs. “I owe you one!” she called out.

 

When Saturday came around, Naegi was woken by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

“Komaru-chan! Get the door!” he heard his mother’s voice call out.

He yawned and stretched his arms above him, wondering what time it was. He swivelled his head to the right where a clock on the wall was ticking away. When he saw the time, his eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. It was already _that_ late?

With lightning speed, he got up out of his bed and scrambled fast into the hallway and down the stairs. “NO! Komaru, whatever you do, do _not_ answer that—”

But it was too late. By the time Naegi got to the foot of the stairs, the front door was already open and an ecstatic Komaru was babbling away in front of Kyouko Kirigiri.

Komaru chatted nonstop about something, but he couldn’t be bothered to discern her speech. His eyes were stuck on Kirigiri and rested there until she took notice and met his gaze.

“Uh… hi.” he trailed off awkwardly and made a weird hand gesture that barely resembled a wave as the after effects of his abruptness in getting up out of bed caught up to him. His head turned heavy and his vision went black even though his eyes were wide open as all the blood rushed from his head.

“Naegi-kun?”

He dropped to the ground on all fours, gasping. The sea of black turned to spots and began to slowly fade away. He blinked several times before standing back up and leaned against the wall in an attempt to look casual.

Well, as casual as his shirt and boxers, disheveled hair, morning breath, and most probably tomato red face would allow him to.

“H-hey there,” he drawled in an effort to look smooth.

Kirigiri shot him a curious look, but he saw the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly. He grinned. 

“You just woke up,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“What? N-no, of course not!” Naegi looked at anywhere but her, unable to lie straight to her face. “This is um… This is my usual look.”

“ _That’s_ your usual look?”

“Y-yeah! You tell her, Komaru-chan!” 

His sister slapped a hand to her forehead. “Onii-chan, you are so _lame_.” She turned to Kirigiri. “It’s nice to meet you, by the way! I’m Komaru and I’m taller than him by a half inch!”

“Are not!” he retorted.

“Wanna bet, pixie?”

“Komaru-chan!”

She burst into a fit of giggles and wrapped her arms around Makoto’s neck, hugging him tight. “Of course I’m joking!” Hiding her face from Kirigiri’s view, she whispered so only Naegi could hear. “Please. She is _so_ out of your league.”

He pried her hands away from his neck, trying to keep his grin intact while Komaru burst into another giggling fit. “Look, we need to work on our project now, so go do something else other than annoy the heck out of me, alright?”

Komaru’s gaze shifted back and forth between Naegi and Kirigiri suggestively. “Yeah, sure. Mom said to keep your door open, by the way.” She bounced on her toes and skipped to the kitchen, leaving the two classmates by the front door.

“Uh, sorry! I should let you in.” Kirigiri entered the house, Naegi shutting the door behind her. “Sorry about my sister. She’s a bit nuts sometimes.”

Kirigiri gave no response. Her gaze was fixed upon the room, taking in all the details. Expression solemn and eyes still cold. It was almost as if she was examining the place, placing every single object under her scrutiny as if they all made an attempt to offend her. But what on earth would she be examining the Naegi household living room for?

It didn’t seem like she heard him, so Naegi just stood there until she acknowledged him again. He took the few short moments to look at her fully. This was the first time he had seen her not wearing the Hope’s Peak uniform and that was probably the reason why he had been reduced to that mumbling mess when his eyes first landed on her at the bottom of the stairs. She was still wearing her leather gloves and those boots that she wore to school a lot, but she also had on a purple blazer and a tie with some sort of emblem stitched onto it. He couldn’t help but notice how the tones brought out the color of her eyes and how the whole ensemble made her look so mature. As if she held in her gloved hands knowledge that he could spend his whole life searching for and still not be able to obtain.

For now, that was the most accurate description he could give of Kyouko Kirigiri. Her eyes held a wisdom that was wise beyond her years. But the question that was bugging him was: _what about?_

At this point, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to find out.

She turned back to him. “Let’s get to work now.”

He nodded and led her up to his room. He left his door open, of course, as was his mother’s instructions.

Kirigiri sat down on the floor without further invitation, taking off her backpack and taking out its contents: a pen and a black leather journal.

“I already have a rough draft of how the play will go,” she said, putting a hand under her chin, expression thoughtful. “Although I’m having trouble smoothing out the finer details.”

Naegi sat cross-legged in front of her. “Does that leave me with anything to do at all? It sounds like you already have everything under control.”

She shook her head. “On the contrary, you will be doing a rather important role in this.”

Makoto was puzzled. She had already chosen the genre and drafted the story. What else could he do? Run to the convenience store and get them some copy paper and a nice cup of joe? 

“Naegi-kun, I need you to name all of these characters.”

“W-what?”

“I have the murder planned and the steps to solve it is already intact.” As she spoke, her tone was serious but she avoided his gaze. “The method, the weapon, the setting—all done. However, humanity and social interaction in general is not my strong point. I am sure you’re quite aware.”

In that moment, he wondered how much of the freaky rumors about Kirigiri did she know about. He shuddered to think that she knew _all_. Maybe just a little. But then again, no one in Hope’s Peak was able to keep gossip within themselves for too long. They were bound to reach Kirigiri in one way or another. He wondered how she felt about that.

“So, that’s it? You just want me to name everyone?” Didn’t sound like much of a challenge, but he guessed he could make do. Arguing with Kirigiri seemed like a bad move, after all. A very bad move.

“You do understand that what I am asking you is something much more than just naming a bunch of imaginary people. There’s a reason why all writers struggle with naming their characters.”

She crossed her arms on her chest and his gaze was instantly drawn to her gloved hands. Now _that_ was a whole new goldmine of rumors about Kyouko Kirigiri. He’d heard many theories about why she never took them off, but as with many other rumors about her, he found it hard to believe them.

“What are you talking about?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“What I am asking you is to make everyone human. Give them traits and emotions, flaws and probability of errors as with real humans. I can only provide logistics and framework, but you can give them heart, Naegi-kun.”

“And what makes you think I’m the right guy to _‘_ give them heart _’_?”

Kirigiri’s eyes went softer, her hands sliding down her arms and onto the floor as she looked up at the ceiling like she was remembering an inside joke. “Because you are too trusting with yours, and that is _your_ fatal flaw."

 

Kirigiri didn’t stay for long after that. Naegi’s mother tried to make her stay for some snacks but she politely refused, saying she had urgent matters to attend to.

“Well, she seems like a lively person,” she said to him once Kirigiri left. He groaned.

“Sure, mom. Big ball of sunshine, she is.”

She giggled. “Not very talkative either though, is she?”

“I guess not.” He shrugged. “I’m going up to my room. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

Kirigiri was nothing like he expected. And perhaps that was a good thing. What he knew of her at the moment was tons better than what he’s heard about her from all the other people in Hope’s Peak. He laughed, seeing how the situation really was ridiculous. Where did they even get all those ideas from? There was nothing strange about Kyouko Kirigiri! She was just a normal girl. Quiet, introverted and a bit frightening, but normal all the same.

She was just like the rest of them. What a relief.

On the floor, near the spot that Kirigiri had sat on just a few moments earlier, was a single black notebook. _Kirigiri’s_ notebook. She must have left it there when she left.

Carefully, he went to pick it up, half-expecting Kirigiri to pop out and yell at him for trying to put his hands on it. Realizing he was just being paranoid, he looked down on it, feeling its weight in his hands. It didn’t look strange on the outside. Just a plain leather notebook that probably contained Kirigiri’s school notes. There was nothing in there that was worth looking at and opening it would be an invasion of her privacy and she wouldn’t like that for sure.

He tossed the notebook on his bed. Yes, he should just leave it alone and return it to Kirigiri the next time he saw her. That would be the wise thing to do.

He wouldn’t read it. Kirigiri was normal like the rest of them. The notebook contained nothing special. 

Staring up at the ceiling, he heaved a sigh. There was no need to stress about a single notebook, damn it!

He sat up and took it in his hands once again. One peek wouldn’t hurt, he guessed.

Slowly, he lifted the cover and turned the pages. Each was filled with Kirigiri’s handwriting all written in uniform black ink. There were also photos pasted on to some of the pages. Curiosity got the best of him and he took a better look.

The photo was of a lifeless man lying on the floor, phone clutched in his hand. Confused, Naegi turned a few more pages. There was another photo of a different man, also dead in what seemed like a grassy place. The next photo was of a girl, eyes wide in shock but also, evidently, dead. On the page after that one, there was no picture but there was a detailed sketch of what looked like a ring adorned with a skull on it.

Notes were written at the bottom of each picture, indicating the names, ages, and occupations of the people in the pictures. Naegi could hear nothing but the blood pounding in his ears. This… didn’t make sense. Why would Kirigiri have a notebook full of dead people?

Maybe these were just notes for their play? If so, what’s with the pictures?

_“New serial killer out on the loose. Terrible, really. Already claimed three victims—two male, one female.”_

His hands shook as he recounted the three photos: two male and one female. 

His breaths were coming in short gasps. He racked his head for an explanation, but there was none. On each person’s page there was only one word in common that Kirigiri had written in all caps, contrasting brightly against the dull white pages:

_SAGITTARII._

His fingers fumbled over the last few pages. Most of them were still blank except for the last one where Kirigiri had written another note, the messy scrawl laced with hastiness and trepidation.

_THERE ARE TWO OF THEM._

The notebook fell to the floor with a loud thud. His mother’s head came into view.

“Makoto-chan, is something wrong? My god, you look pale! Are you sick?”

He shook his head and gulped. “Mom, this new killer you saw on the news, what’s he called?”

“What brought this on all of a sudden?” She smiled at her son as she balanced the pile of clothes in her arms. “He’s called the Sagittarii Killer, dear. Every one knows that.”


	8. Fast Approach: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naegi and Kirigiri get serious. Ishimaru and Oowada are just their usual silly selves.

Makoto Naegi could not stop thinking about Kyouko Kirigiri.

As much as he didn’t want to sound like some lovesick teenage girl, that was the truth. Ever since she came into his life she’s been boggling him and turning his thoughts inside out. He was even beginning to think that it wasn’t healthy.

His mom kept asking if something was wrong, but he never replied. What was he supposed to say? _‘Hey mom, I think my project partner might be a serial killer and she’s kind of pretty and I really can’t stop thinking about her’_? 

That’s more like a one way ticket to a mental institution.

The second time she went to his house to retrieve her notebook, she was even more quiet and reserved than usual. She barely even made it past the front door when Naegi handed her the notebook and she left promptly without a word.

Maybe she hated Naegi. That seemed like a plausible explanation. She probably already assumed that Naegi read her notes. She seemed to be the kind of person to be perceptive of that.

Why then, if she despised him, was she eating lunch with them at their table? Kirigiri never had any friends as far as Naegi could remember. She always ate alone until she suddenly showed up at Naegi’s lunch table, sitting there as if it was a regular thing to do. 

He tried to strike up a conversation with her, but the moment he opened his mouth fear seized him and he became a stuttering mess. What was it going to take to get through to someone like Kirigiri?

He had questions. Lots of them. And he couldn’t let them go easily when he knew his life rested on the answers to those questions—quite literally, he’s afraid.

And now _Mondo Oowada_ was also sitting with them? Did he look like he was holding a sign that said “ALL ABOARD THE NAEGI EXPRESS”?

But then again, Oowada’s presence wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. In fact, he and Ishimaru seemed to be great friends now, all laughing and slinging their arms around each other’s shoulders. To be honest, he was a little bit freaked out.

Okay. He was _extremely_ freaked out. Like, down to the very core.

But then again, Ishimaru did look happy, happier than he’d ever seen him, so maybe this newfound friendship wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He’s glad the two finally set aside their differences and were able to talk it out.

Kirigiri sat across from him, still not speaking a word. Her lavender eyes were steady as they swept about every single face in the room. Why was she doing that? Why was she observing everyone else and not saying anything?

 _Planning out her next target, maybe,_ a small voice erupted in his head. He banished the thought immediately. Kirigiri was not a murderer, god damn it!

When those eyes settled on him, he became a nervous wreck once again. She was stoic as always, eyes wide but perceptive. Naegi’s palms were sweating.

“Something wrong, Naegi-kun?”

His heart beat a tad faster. He wasn’t expecting her to say something. Her voice was clear and serene, like an arrow shot through the barrier of sound that he was in. Ikusaba chewed loudly on a pack of chips. Ishimaru and Oowada talked about plans to go to an amusement park, laughter ringing out. Fujisaki tapped an idle beat on the table with her hands.

But all of that became background noise under Kirigiri’s demanding gaze.

“C-can I talk to you? In private?” He gulped.

Her resolve faltered briefly. Naegi registered an expression of surprise on her features for the shortest of seconds. But it was gone before he could ponder on it more.

“No, you may not.”

Naegi’s stomach dropped. There it was. Now he knew she really did hate him. He didn’t know if he expected anything else. Kirigiri made it clear from the start that she wasn’t fond of him at all. And after this little blunder, she might not even forgive him.

Still, he had a right to know, right? He simply can’t be left hanging there, wondering whether or not Kirigiri really was a serial murderer. That wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that someone can be so calm about. He _needed_ to know, if only so he could get his peace of mind back.

“Uh, Kirigiri-san, I wasn’t—”

“If there is something that you would like to say to me, I’m sure you can say it right now even if we are not in private.”

“Err… Right. I was just…” He trailed off. What was he going to say? It’s not like he can ask her straight away if she was really murderer or not. She’d definitely punch him.

She raised an eyebrow and took a sip from her juice box. “Do you have questions?”

“Just a few.” Worst understatement of the century there.

“Very well. Meet me at the school entrance after class.”

Naegi was stunned. It was that easy to convince her to talk to him?

_Maybe it’s because you’re her next target._

He shushed the voice in his head and threw it out the window. Kirigiri was _not_ a serial killer!

_Yeah, keep telling yourself that._

 

“Look, uh, Ishi, I was thinking, maybe I can just give you a ride to my place later. Beats having to walk all the way there like you usually do, right?”

Ishimaru shook his head at Oowada. “I don’t mind having to walk everywhere. It’s a great exercise.”

The two were walking down the halls. Class ended just a few minutes ago, and Ishimaru was heading to his Public Morals Committee meeting. Usually at this time Oowada just went straight home.

“Yeah, but why choose the harder way when there’s always the easy way?”

“Because the harder way is always the more rewarding, kyoudai.”

“Do you even consider how much time you’d save if you just let me give you a ride? Time that can be used for studying and all that shit you liked instead.”

“Shush, Oowada! We are inside the school premises!”

“I can swear whenever I want, wherever I want.”

“Not if you want a month’s worth of detention, you don’t.” They stopped before the door to classroom 3-A, where Ishimaru’s meeting will take place. He faced the gang leader with a stern expression. He put a hand on Oowada’s shoulder. “Now behave, kyoudai. I’ll see you later.”

Oowada could still feel the warmth of Ishimaru’s touch as he watched the prefect disappear behind the classroom door.

 

Naegi sat down at the steps leading to the entrance of Hope’s Peak Academy. Kirigiri told him to meet him there, but what if she didn’t plan on showing up? What if she was just intent on making Naegi look like a fool, waiting for nothing as the sun began to set?

Ten minutes later, though, Kirigiri did show up. She took one look at him and nodded towards the benches scattered on the school’s front yard in a silent indication to him that he should follow.

They sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, the sounds of the rushing cool wind and the chirping of birds drowning their ears. Kirigiri looked contented with the current arrangement, and Naegi didn’t have the gall to ruin her good mood so he kept his mouth shut despite the fact that words were threatening to burst out of him at any minute.

A half hour passed without a word being spoken by either of them. _Kirigiri sure is strange._ He thought that maybe she was waiting for him to talk first but disregarded the notion. He wasn’t sure what Kirigiri wanted, but it certainly wasn’t that.

A strong gush of wind blew past, making Kirigiri’s long hair fly out, some tendrils smacking Naegi’s face. He brought a hand to grab at the strands and gently put them back at her side. Kirigiri was looking at him intently, her cheeks tinged with pink. She gathered all her hair in one hand and used the other to sweep them around the other side of her neck. She mumbled an apology.

“N-no, it’s fine.” He was reduced to that stuttering mess once again. His gaze was drawn to the newly exposed pale skin of her neck. She fidgeted with the gloves on her hands and sighed, her long eyelashes accentuated as she closed her eyes.

Naegi looked away, not wanting his thoughts to wander off to places they shouldn’t be in. In the distance, he spotted Ishimaru and Oowada, the latter seated on his bike as the former appeared to be yelling at him.

_Strangely enough, those two would make a nice couple._

Naegi knew he’d had enough of the silence already when his mind began to conjure up images of Ishimaru and Oowada out on a romantic rendezvous in a private island somewhere.

“Kirigiri-san, please be honest. Are you mad at me?”

“That depends. Did you read my journal?”

 

Oowada was waiting for him outside classroom 3-A when Ishimaru finished with the meeting.

His back rested on the wall, both hands stuffed inside his pants pockets. When Ishimaru came out, he straightened up.

“Kyoudai! I told you to go home already!”

“You told me no such thing. So, ready to go?”

“Um, yes.” Ishimaru adjusted the straps of his bag as they began walking out the school.

“Wait here. I’ll go get my bike,” Oowada said when they exited the front doors as he quickly ran in the direction of the parking lot before Ishimaru could object. The prefect heaved a sigh. There really was no dissuading the stubborn Oowada.

He stood there alone for the next few minutes as he briefly contemplated leaving Oowada behind and walking home alone. The notion was tempting, but he disregarded it. It probably wasn’t worth fighting the gang leader about.

The loud roar of a motorcycle engine interrupted his thoughts as Oowada approached him on his bike. He set one foot on the ground and turned to Ishimaru. “You getting on or not?”

“I would still much rather walk, kyoudai, but thanks for offering.” He tried to walk away only to be stopped by Oowada grabbing his wrist.

“Okay, what’s this really all about? Stop being such a wuss and just get on the damn bike, it’ll save us so much trouble!”

The prefect narrowed his ruby eyes. “I am not being a wuss! There is no way you can ever convince me to ride on that… that _death trap!_ ”

“Ishi, this is ridiculous.”

“ _I_ am being ridiculous? You’re not even wearing a helmet!”

Oowada scoffed. “Please. Helmets are for squares. There’s nothing badass about that. ‘Sides, gotta watch out for the hair, ya know.” To emphasize, he patted a hand on his pompadour.

Ishimaru was furious. “Helmets are _not_ for squares, they are for safety! And there is no way I am willingly getting on something that ascertains my demise within the next twenty-five minutes, thank you very much!”

“Please just get on. I really don’t have time for this. I have to meet up with Chi in an hour.”

“I am sure Fujisaki-kun will understand if you are a little bit late.”

Oowada pouted. “But… But it’s _Halo_ night, Ishi! I can’t be late on Halo night!”

The prefect crossed his arms on his chest and stood his ground. “Why don’t _you_ tell me what this is really about, then? Why are you so insistent on me riding your bike?”

“Well, like I said, it saves time and energy. Not to mention you’ll have the rare opportunity to ride with the coolest, most handsome gang leader in all of Japan.” He flashed Ishimaru a winning smile.

Ishimaru’s face dropped in a deadpan. “I’m not in the mood to play jokes with you, kyoudai. Be honest.”

The gang leader’s expression faltered. He dropped his gaze to the ground, his hair covering most of his face. “I’m just… I’m not comfortable letting you walk home alone, alright?”

Ishimaru’s thick brows shot up. “What, er, what are you implying?”

Oowada gripped the handlebars of his bike. Ishimaru watched them as they turned white. “Look, man, no offense, but you’re kinda a huge magnet for trouble.”

“What makes you say that?!”

“That scar on your cheek from that bastard’s punch is one thing. I just think it’d be better if I stick with you for a while. You said you valued your safety, right?”

“Kyoudai, you shouldn’t feel obligated to protect me! I can do fine on my own.”

Oowada rolled his eyes. “Sure, since you’ve done a good job of that so far. Just get on the damn bike already.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m perfectly capable of defending myself when the situation calls for it.”

“Yeah… I don’t think so. See, _I’m_ a fighter. _I’m_ the one who knows a thing or two about self defense. I can give you some lessons, if you like.”

“That would be unnecessary.”

“Well, it’s either that or you get on the damn bike, Ishi. So _please_ just get on the bike.”

Ishimaru thought about it for a few seconds while Oowada trained his hopeful eyes on him until a still skeptic Ishimaru hesitantly got on the seat behind the gang leader.

“Just this once, alright?”

Oowada nodded. “We’re already running a bit late, so hold tight.”

“What? You are not going a single mile above the speed limit, mister!”

“Relax, Ishi. I’ve done this plenty of times before,” Oowada said, laughing.

“I still have one more problem.”

“Out with it, man.”

“Your hair! How does it not obstruct your view of the road?”

“My hair?” Oowada’s head cocked to the side. “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t really think it gets in the way or anything.”

“Your hair is a safety hazard! I demand you cut it immediately!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t cut it right _now_! Ishi, stop being silly, alright?”

Ishimaru wished that Oowada could see how grim his expression was. Deciding that the gang leader did have a point, he snaked his arms around Oowada’s chest. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Oowada made two twists to the handlebars and suddenly, they were flying.

Buildings and trees and even _cars_ sped past them at an uneasy pace. They were going so fast, Ishimaru felt like the skin of his face was peeling off.

“MONDO OOWADA, I AM GOING TO KILL YOUUU!!!”

“I KNOW! ISN’T IT FUN?”

 

Naegi’s stomach dropped so fast at Kirigiri’s words. If he was nervous before, he was absolutely frightened now.

“Uh, what?”

“Did you read my journal?”

“O-oh, you mean that black notebook you left in my house? No, absolutely not!” His hands flew out and waved ridiculously in front of him. “Why would I do that?”

He risked a glance towards her and found that she was looking at him, her eyes full of judgement. “Have I mentioned how much I absolutely hate liars, Naegi-kun?”

Well, he supposed he’s lived a good life.


	9. Fast Approach: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from where the last chapter left off.

“See, man? That wasn’t so bad!”

As soon as Ishimaru got off the bike and planted his feet on the ground he felt a case of tunnel vision coming in. Everything was zooming in and out, and the ground was shifting beneath him. He wobbled on his knees, oblivious to Oowada’s hearty laughter behind him.

“Come on, man. Let’s go inside. We still got some math shit to get to.”

Ishimaru nodded, placed a hand on his stomach, and made a beeline to a nearby bush where he gracefully puked his guts out.

“Whoa. Ishi, are you alright?”

Ishimaru wretched a few more times, back heaving as he sank lower and lower to the ground until he was on his knees. The gang leader observed him, worried.

When he was done, he stood up on his feet and shot Oowada a glare so mighty the gang leader feared for a moment he might start shooting lasers at him. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, though, until he relaxed a bit and scrunched his nose. He walked closer to Oowada.

“I’m disgusting!” He cried, pouting.

Oowada smiled and tapped a finger on his chin to ease his pout. “You can get cleaned up inside.”

“I’m… still woozy, kyoudai…” Ishimaru’s knees buckled and he fell forward and into Oowada’s arms.

“Whoa! It’s fine. I got ya.” He hoisted the prefect up by his arms and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

Ishimaru panicked, attempting to pound his fists on Oowada’s leg. “Wh—put me down this instant!” He kicked wildly, but Oowada had a firm hold on his thighs rendering his resistance futile.

Oowada chuckled. “What? Did you want me to carry you bridal style instead?” Keeping one arm around Ishimaru, he fished his hand in his pocket and brought out his house keys.

Despite himself, Ishimaru blushed at the thought of the gang leader having to carry him bridal style as they entered his house. It made for the right scenario under all the wrong circumstances. “I am not a child, Mondo! Put me down!”

They entered the house, Ishimaru still over the gang leader’s shoulder and protesting wildly. With a sigh, Oowada set him down on the floor. “Bathroom’s on the right.”

Ishimaru didn’t even get the chance to thank him as he ran so fast and closed the bathroom door behind him, where Oowada heard him retch out a couple more times through the thin walls.

Minutes later, the prefect came out, calm and composed. He stepped towards the biker with a stern expression.

“I think I’ll take you up on those self defense lessons now.”

 

“I-I didn’t mean to! I’m really sorry, Kirigiri-san.”

The air was thick around them even though they were outdoors and Naegi found it hard to breathe.

“If you’re going to keep lying to me, I suggest we end this conversation right now,” Kirigiri replied, standing up.

“Wait!” Naegi stood up too. And his heart was pounding in his ears because he really had no idea what he was doing anymore. All he knew was that he needed to have Kirigiri stay by his side. “Can I take you home?”

She stared at him oddly. Naegi blushed.

“I-I mean, can I accompany you as you walk home? Not like the _‘take you home’_ way. Oh god, I totally could have phrased that better.”

She raised an eyebrow. To his complete surprise, she nodded.

“R-really?”

She shrugged. “I suppose.”

They walked in the direction of Kirigiri’s home, wherever that was. Their hands swung at their sides as they walked and there was a distance being maintained between them. Naegi knew that that should make him feel better, but for some reason it did quite the opposite.

 

“Alright, man. Let’s get started. But I won’t go easy on you, alright?”

The two boys were outside Oowada’s house, taking off their uniform blazers and shirts. The street was lit up by the setting sun, though some streetlights have started to light up already.

“You don’t have to go easy on me, kyoudai. Just fight me as you would any man.” Ishimaru looked to his friend, who was gaping at him. “…Is something wrong?”

Oowada closed his mouth and turned a light shade of pink. “N-nothing. Just, could’ve sworn you looked much thinner with your clothes on.”

Ishimaru cocked his head in confusion. 

“Ah, whatever man. Let’s just start already.”

Oowada planted one foot on the ground and clenched his hands into fists, ready to strike. 

Ishimaru slipped into his fighting stance, bringing his arms up—one to guard his face and the other his torso—and bounced up and down on his toes. It had been a long time since he was last able to do this. He hoped he hadn’t been bent too out of shape.

Without another word, Oowada swung his fist back and brought it forward, aiming for Ishimaru’s chest. Ishimaru blocked it with an arm, thrust it upward and used the newly exposed area as a target for when he spun back, brought up his leg, and planted a clean side kick to Oowada’s chest.

The gang leader stumbled back a couple of steps, dazed.

Ishimaru straightened up. “I’m sorry! Did I mess up your shirt?”

The gang leader looked down at his chest where a footprint of Ishimaru’s boot was clearly embossed.

“Do you honestly think I give a shit?!”

 

Naegi was too scared to even open his mouth.

Kirigiri had an effect like that. Like a graceful lioness in a wide expanse of savannah, lithe and quiet whilst lurking in the shadows; fierce and deadly when crossed.

As of this moment, he didn’t know how much his limits extended to before making Kirigiri ‘crossed’.

They walked to a part of the town Naegi has never been to before, and they took so many turns that he feared he might not be able to find his way back. He pushed that thought away, though. There were more pressing matters for now.

“If it helps at all, Kirigiri-san, I really am sorry.” His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie and he directed his gaze to the ground, staring at their feet, trying to synchronize his steps with hers.

“Hm. I’m sure you’ve found a thing or two in there that have piqued your interest. I admit, I shouldn’t have been that careless. But I’m still not pleased.”

“I think what I saw kind of warrants an explanation, though.”

She made a derisive snort. “I don’t owe you _anything._ ”

“N-no! It’s not like that. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… Please just tell me if you really are the Sagittarii Killer. For the sake of my own sanity, _please_!”

Kirigiri stopped walking abruptly.

“What the _hell_ did you just say to me?”

Naegi froze on the spot. His face turned ashen. His stomach became stone.

“You know, I-I uh, was just wondering if—”

“If I was a serial killer? That’s what you think I am?”

“What? No!… _Maybe…_ ”

To his surprise and immense fear, Kirigiri’s lips quirked up into a smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

Oowada launched himself at Ishimaru, hand curled up in a fist once again. The prefect reverted back to his stance and blocked Oowada’s punch. 

Ishimaru formed a fist, aiming to strike a blow of his own. Oowada dodged the attack, bending on his knees as he swept a leg under him, hitting the back of Ishimaru’s knees.

The prefect buckled under the surprise blow and fell to the ground, landing on his butt. His eyes were wide as he struggled to process what had just taken place.

“See, that’s where you went wrong,” said Oowada, wiping sweat off his brow. His skin glinted under the sunlight, making him seem a lot bigger than he was. “Your job is to _defend_ , Ishi. You ain’t some street thug like me. You gotta think of yourself and yourself _only._ Cause the moment you try any ideas your attention gets divided, and there’s always some part of you that’s left vulnerable. Understand?”

Ishimaru nodded. “I admit, that was stupid of me to do.” He got up on his feet and dusted off the back of his pants. Resuming his stance, he beckoned Oowada over to him. “I’ll definitely beat you in this round!”

 

The sun had set completely now, and Naegi’s legs were killing him. How far was Kirigiri’s house anyway? It seemed like they’ve been walking for _hours._

She didn’t exactly answer his question. Though Naegi silently rejoiced in the fact that she didn’t answer in the affirmative, brought out some knives from under her skirt and proceeded to skin him alive or something of the like. That was always a relief.

_But she didn’t deny it either._

Okay. That ridiculous inner voice has _got_ to go.

He didn’t want to broach the subject again, so he settled for asking, “How far off are we from your house now?”

She paused and looked around their surroundings. She pointed to a house that they were right in front of, a plain-looking one-storey house that he could barely make out the details off under the dim lighting.

“That’s my house, actually.”

“Oh.” So it was over? He looked at the house again. There were no lights coming from the inside. In all honesty, it looked abandoned. Was this really the place Kirigiri lived in? “I guess I should be going now.”

“Naegi-kun, wait.”

He paused, taking in the outline of the top of her head down to where he hair ended. His eyes trailed down the single braid that hung like a lone rope among the thick mass of hair, held together by a black ribbon. In silence he waited for her to talk again.

“I don’t mind doing this project with you. And if you think we should meet up to work on it then just tell me. However, I must tell you right now that a friendship between us is not possible.”

What was she saying? How was it impossible for them to be friends? Did he strike her as a non-friendable person?

“Wait, what?”

“I know what type of person you are. You see the lonely people. The misfits. And you take them in like stray cats.” She shook her head. “I may be the loneliest stray cat in the block, but I don’t need anyone to take me in. I do fine on my own, and I’d appreciate it if we kept to our respective businesses.”

“Oh. Y-yeah, I understand.” He couldn’t understand why there was so much disappointment in his tone. “Sorry again if I offended you or anything. I guess I was out of the line.”

She nodded. “Have a good night, Naegi-kun.” She turned around and walked in the direction of the dreary house.

Naegi walked off, too deep in his thoughts to notice that the moment he turned his back, Kirigiri leapt back on the road and ran in the direction opposite his.

 

Oowada lay on the ground, breathing heavily.

“Okay, you just got lucky!”

Ishimaru laid a hand on his cheek as he looked down on the gang leader. “No, I’m pretty sure I won fair and square. Just admit that I’m clever, kyoudai.”

“Fine! Let’s have another go.”

“No objections here.”

Oowada got back to his feet and straightened his hair, pushing it back behind his head. It came springing back forward instead.

“What if, say for example, someone attacks you from behind? I’d like to see how you’d do on that.”

The prefect thought about it for a few seconds and nodded. “I’ve never tried that before. Let’s see.”

He turned his back to the gang leader, ears strained to pick up the sound of footsteps approaching.

Oowada smiled, in his mind he already claimed his victory. He ran full speed at Ishimaru, and before the latter had the time to react, gripped him in a tight headlock.

Instincts taught Ishimaru to scrabble frantically at his arms in a feeble attempt to get them off. No use. They were latched on to him tight.

He jabbed an elbow at Oowada’s abdomen, effectively hitting him in the solar plexus. A gust of wind met his ear as the breath was knocked out of Oowada. His grip loosened and Ishimaru placed both hands on his arm, took a step forward and, with a quick and gracious spin on his heel, threw the gang leader nearly twice his size over his shoulder, heart pumping mad with adrenaline.

The sound of bone hitting concrete ripped through the air and snapped him out of his haze. 

“Kyoudai!” He rushed over to Oowada and bent down beside him. His hands went to Oowada’s face, running over his cheekbones, down to his jawline and stopped at his neck. Wide purple eyes were trained on him, shock still evident in them. “There aren’t any cuts or bruises on your face. Is there anything else that hurts?”

“Where the hell did you learn to do _that_?”

Ishimaru continued his examination on Oowada’s arms, oblivious to the fact that the gang leader was frozen and rigid under his touch. “Well, my specialty is actually Kendo, but I was able to take some classes in Taekwondo and Judo too.” He shrugged. “What about your legs? Are they alright? If you feel any pain at all, tell me!”

“ _Fuck._ Ishi, you’re amazing.”

His hands froze on Oowada’s wrists and he willed himself not to blush. Nevertheless, he sensed the heat pooling in his cheeks and knew no amount of will power could stop it from happening anyway.

“Ishi, your hands are _freezing_.”


	10. Light Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondo and Chihiro bond over video games. We also get a peek into Kiyotaka's home life.

“Okay. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You sure? Cause I think you need more practice.”

“Fucking get on with it already, Chi!”

“If you say so. Three… Two… One… ELIMINATE! _”_

The sound of raining gunshots filled the room, bursting from Fujisaki’s high quality sound system just as Oowada got a firm grip on his controller and played with his eyes glued to the screen, tongue sticking out of his mouth. On his left, Fujisaki sat with her knees bent underneath her, her countenance not as hard as Oowada’s, but with the same murderous glint in her eye.

“Let’s go gun these fuckers into oblivion!” Oowada said.

“So, uh,” Fujisaki started as she kept her eyes on the screen. “You and Ishimaru are really close now. You should’ve brought him with you.”

“Nah. I don’t think he would’ve—” Oowada paused as his character dropped dead on the screen. “Ah, fuck! Sorry ‘bout that. Trigger finger’s bein’ a dick.”

“So, you were saying?”

“Huh?” His knuckles turned white on the controller as he twisted to the right and came face to face with an opponent about to hack his face off and meleed it. “Nah. He probably won’t like this type of stuff.”

“So what? We’ll just be hanging out. He doesn’t have to play with us.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t really like wasting his time like that. He’s more of a—”

“Energy sword! Aw, _fuck_ yeah!”

The gang leader rolled his eyes fondly at his friend. Chihiro Fujisaki was tiny and generally regarded as a gentle butterfly. Only Oowada, however, knew how dirty she could be when you get in between her and her games.

He marched on, circling around the room and shooting everyone that got in his way. Muscle memory took over as his thoughts flew back to his and Ishimaru’s little scuffle earlier that day. The kid’s got some major guns, he had to admit. He wasn’t exactly the scrawny nerd boy that Oowada made him out to be. His mind projected images of the prefect’s sculpted chest and his toned arms…

Oowada shook his head. Ah, fuck. Thinking of his kyoudai like that was hella weird. Gotta steer clear of the weird thoughts. Moving on…

And fuck, he was strong! He thought back to how Ishimaru executed his final move. He’s only ever seen people doing that on movies. And of course he knew there were cords and special effects in it, so that had been a load of bullshit. Seeing someone do it with his own two eyes, and that someone being Ishimaru on that note, to say he was impressed would be a huge understatement.

“You have to take Ishimaru some other time, though. It doesn’t have to be on game night. We can do other stuff!”

Oowada hesitated before speaking. “You know what? I’ll ask, but I don’t think he’ll agree to it.”

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause he’s a busy guy, you see? Always doing… stuff.”

“Mon-chan, you ain’t fooling me. I know what this is really about.”

“I ain’t trying to fool you!” Oowada’s character dropped on the ground once again. He stared at the screen dumbly, watching the countdown until he respawned. “FUCKING HELL! I just got sniped.”

“Head in the game, Mondo! They’re leading and the spread is increasing really fast.”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough!”

He pouted. As his character leapt back up to life, he tried to focus solely on the game, seeking out the red arrows that indicated who he should shoot, and tried so hard not to think that it reminded him of a certain pair of red eyes.

_“ENEMY TEAM NEARING VICTORY.”_

Fujisaki growled. 

“Calm down! I’m up! We can still catch up to that score!”

“I damn well hope we could!”

“Relax, Chi. We got this in the bag.” Oowada was shot once again. “Oops.”

“JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF GUN ARE YOU EVEN USING??”

This time, Oowada flinched. He knew Fujisaki only got this angry when he did something _very_ wrong. “Uh, a DMR, I think.”

“A DMR? Last week you were using an Assault!”

“I wanted to try something new!”

There was a flash on the screen as the word ‘DEFEAT’ showed up, bright as day. Fujisaki threw the controller on the floor. She turned to Oowada, furious.

“You wanted to try something new? _No_. You do not change guns just like _that,_ Mondo. When you choose a gun, you _commit_ to the gun. You _love_ the gun. You _become_ the gun.”

“Chihiro, you’re _really_ freaking me out now.”

Her hands came up to his shoulders, so tiny in comparison to the broad expanse of Oowada’s body. She leaned in, forcing the gang leader to meet her eye-to-eye. 

“Really? How about now?”

The gang leader swore that for a second he could see swirls of madness stirring up in the programmer’s eyes. He leaned back in fear of his safety. “Chi, cut it out!!!”

Fujisaki leaned back in her seat, laughing. “Oh gosh! Th-the look on your face! _Priceless!_ ”

Oowada groaned. “Okay. That was not cool.”

“Yeah, but it seemed like a better idea than shooting you while we were playing.”

“Shooting me? We were on the same fucking team!”

“And we gotta get rid of dead weights now, don’t we?”

Nearly choking on fits of laughter, Fujisaki doubled over just as a throw pillow hit her square in the chest.

“You’re an ass, Chi. Can you not step on my ego today? I already got my ass kicked by Ishi and that’s more than enough for one afternoon.”

“Whoa. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“Nah, not a fight. I gave him defense lessons. Or tried to, at least.”

“Wait a minute. You’re saying that you and Ishimaru had a fight and you _lost_?”

“I didn’t lose! Damn it, it wasn’t a contest! There was no loser.”

“There’s _always_ a loser. You were the one who said so after every time you get into a fight with another gang.”

Oowada cringed. She got him there. “I… I DIDN’T LOSE!”

“Come on, Mon-chan! Just admit that Ishimaru is your strong, dashing prince and he can kick your ass any day!”

He frowned. “I’m not gay, Chi.”

“You don’t have to be gay in order to say he’s attractive.” She said, holding her palms up at either side of her head. “Heck, even _I_ admit he’s pretty smoking.”

“And that’s when you haven’t seen him with his shirt off.”

“ _You’ve seen him with his_ —Oh my god. What does he look like?!”

“Chihiro, you’re being so freaky right now, I swear.”

“Mon-chan, please just give me a little description! Please!”

He sighed, wondering what on earth has gotten into the programmer. Well, sounds like someone’s developed a crush. 

_She may not be the only one._

Oowada shook the thought away immediately. Sure, he could acknowledge that Ishimaru was well built and he damn well couldn’t call the guy ugly. He also had a deep respect for his skills in hand-to-hand combat. Nothing wrong with that, right? They were brothers, after all. Yeah. Bros can definitely do that.

“He’s a lot more muscular than you think. I dunno how he hides it under that stupid uniform, really. It was a tiny bit scary.”

“Does he have abs?”

“Jeez, Chi. Should you really be asking me that?”

“Oh! Sorry. I forget that there are men like you who futilely cling onto any sort of machismo you can get, so I’m going to put this into terms that you can understand.” Clearing her throat, she sat up and expanded her chest, her arms sticking out of her sides and talked in a gruff voice. “So, uh, man. Bro dude, like, how built is he? Is he a Thor or a Loki?”

“Fuck off, Chi,” he replied, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. Fujisaki burst into a fit of giggles.

 _Definitely a Loki,_ Oowada answered with his mind. _A wide-eyed, clean-cut Asian, and much louder version of him. He does seem to have that godlike figure._

He tried to convince himself that he definitely did _not_ dig that.

_God damn it! I said to stop with the weird thoughts!_

“But seriously, Mon-chan. If you aren’t comfortable with me being friends with Ishimaru, just say it.”

The gang leader raised his brows. “Why on earth would I do that?”

She shrugged. “I figured it might make you uncomfortable. I know the real reason why you don’t wanna invite him here, and I understand. You’re worried that he might find out about our past.”

Oowada was silent. It was times like these that he was astounded by her ability to always know what he was thinking. He and Fujisaki go back, _way_ back. And she was right. There were many things about that past that Ishimaru was better off not knowing.

“I won’t keep him from you, though,” he said finally. “You were friends with him first. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh. Th-thanks.”

He nodded, and there was silence for the next two minutes.

“He likes coffee, by the way,” she said, sly smile forming on her face. “Just in case you were thinking of first date ideas.”

“I am five seconds away from smothering you with this pillow.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

“How did you even know that anyway?” He asked, his curiosity suddenly piqued.

“I didn’t. Kirigiri-san told me. Or, more like I heard her saying it. I wasn’t really sure if she was talking to me or not.”

Now Oowada was even more confused. What would Kirigiri know about Ishimaru? It’s not like there was the slightest bit of relation between the two, that is unless they were super secret friends or something. But he figured that was highly unlikely.

“She said something about his teeth being stained or something,” she continued. 

So basically she concluded that Ishimaru had a mild coffee addiction just by looking at his teeth? 

He let out a low hum. “What a weird girl.”

 

Kiyotaka Ishimaru wouldn’t say that he was happy. No, there were only a sparse few things that could give him that feeling. However, he was pretty damn close to it. 

It was easy to smile, of course. There was nothing particularly arduous about pulling your cheekbones up, letting your eyes squint, and revealing a row of pearly whites when the situation called for it. His smile was big and radiant. He knew that because he spent many hours practicing it in front of the mirror.

But smiles were not always an indicator of one’s happiness.

Happiness belonged only to those who deserved it, and Ishimaru knew he was not one of those people. There were thoughts that plagued his mind that should not be there, but they were normal to him now. It was easier to pretend when he was at school, with the presence of his new kyoudai and his other friends to distract him. Tutoring Oowada after classes was also an extension of that periodical fantasy world. Real life hits him the moment he gets home.

The house was dark when he stepped through the front door, as it always was. He announced his arrival into the spacious but barely furnished room, knowing he will receive no response. But from the looks of things, and judging also by the smell of frying fish that hung in the air, it appeared that dinner was being made.

He walked onwards, footsteps wary. Often when he came home to rather unusual situations he had to prepare himself well for them. The only lighting in the house came from the kitchen, pure white but cast its light dimly due to the fact that it hasn’t been cleaned in a long time. Just as he suspected, a pan was set on the lit stove, food sizzling above it and releasing a striking aroma. He looked closer. The fish had turned golden brown moments ago and was well on its way to shifting to a dreary burnt black.

His mother sat on a chair in the corner, staring at him.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” he asked.

“Kiyo, you came home!” Her bright red eyes were wide with wonder and stood out among the expanse of her pale face made almost translucent under the kitchen light. 

Ishimaru walked over to the stove and turned off the flame, sighing. He grabbed a plate and spatula and scooped the food from the pan. “I already told you, mother, that I have no intention of leaving you. No matter what, I’ll always come back.”

“Change is the only constant of life. You can be here one morning and be thousands of miles away the next. It is so easy to escape the entrapments of life and start anew. Don’t you think it is beautiful, Kiyo?”

He kept his back turned to her, fearing that he might snap at her if he saw her face. He settled for a light groan. “I didn’t know you’d be cooking today.”

“Cooking?” She sounded genuinely confused for a moment. “Oh. You mean _that_ cooking.”

“Yes, mother. I am referring to tonight’s dinner, which you nearly burned. I thought we agreed that I would handle the cooking from now on?” He turned to face her and found the exact sight he expected to see. Her head bowed, long raven hair falling from her shoulders and obscuring parts of her face, fingers trembling as they held on to a piece of green cloth. Her nails were long, untrimmed, and of a sickly yellow hue. Pair that off with her slim build, she gave off the image of a frail little child lost in trying to find its way home. That, or an unstable patient in a mental facility.

“You just seemed so busy lately, sweetie. I-I wanted to help. I need to take care of my baby boy.”

_Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?_

“Mother, you need to rest. Go take a seat in the dining room while I set up the table.”

Dinner was always a quiet affair, with Ishimaru keeping both his eyes peeled for anything his mother might do. After making dinner (which was something she hadn’t done in _months_ , by the way), he feared that she might be up to something else. Luckily, she only ate her food in silence. The green cloth she had been holding moments ago laid on the table between them, serving to him a reminder of the lifelong duty he resigned himself to fulfill the moment his father announced that he would be departing, and Ishimaru never saw him again.

Nobody smiled in Ishimaru’s house. There was no need to pretend to be fine. He and his mother, drifted apart as they may be, were still alike in many things. They both saw no need to hide what had happened, and it was because of this that Ishimaru had to work just to make sure they stayed intact.

Even though he was barely holding on himself.

 

That night, while his mother slept soundly on her bed, he watched her from the bedroom door. Moonlight always did make her look much more human than how she actually was. It cast an ethereal glow on her peaceful form, and this was one of the times when it was also easier to pretend.

Her hands still held onto the piece of green cloth, though her grip had long since gone lax the moment she lost consciousness. Gold stitches adorned the cloth and peeked out from between her fingers, but he already knew what they said. He was the one who made it, after all. An innocent gift done by an enthusiastic six-year-old who had just discovered the joys of sewing.

It said, _‘I love you, mother’._

 

Happiness did not come to Ishimaru, has not come to him in such a long time. But he was getting closer to it by each day and he had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

Deep inside, he knew he had no right to be happy. That he was much too poor and had too much he needed to achieve to waste around on such mundane feelings. It will come when everything has been sorted out and he has achieved everything he’s wanted to. There’s a silver lining there, he could feel it. But until that day came, happiness would only be an empty pursuit.

Mondo Oowada brought him closer to happiness than anyone he’s ever met. He had no idea how he was doing it. In truth, it was like magic. Smiling and laughing was a thousand times easier around him, and it was during the times they were together that he allowed himself to enjoy the moment for what it was, even though he always ended up feeling guilty about it afterwards. 

Monday afternoon rolled around and it was just one of Ishimaru’s unlucky days. He was a mess all throughout, wrought with thoughts of looming deadlines and club duties. He stepped out of Classroom 3-A feeling like he was about to drop dead at any moment. And when he saw Oowada waiting for him once again, he was relieved. 

He was a dangerous man. But then again, what else did he expect from the Super High School Level Gang Leader? They had only been friends for a short period of time and already he was thinking of him this much. Ishimaru knew he should be more careful. Because happiness was elusive. It wasn’t easily obtained nor was it a lighthearted matter. Happiness had to be achieved. 

But when Oowada gave him a reassuring look coupled with that signature coy smile of his, took his hand, and placed in it a nice warm cup of steaming coffee, he stared at him for a few seconds and stood still. Warmth radiated from the pads of his fingers and into the back of Ishimaru’s hand. It seemed ridiculous that he was more hyper aware of the heat coming from Oowada’s hand rather than that of the coffee, but that was exactly how it was.

“I, uh… You looked a bit tired, so uh, I got you this,” the gang leader supplied, blush creeping up his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

And this time, Ishimaru allowed himself to smile a genuine smile, knowing that he was only a hair’s breadth away from complete happiness.


	11. Hazelnut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondo has some issues, but hey we all knew that already right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post this chapter earlier than intended as a thank you to the many wonderful comments I received from the previous chapter! I'm so happy you guys have no idea! Please feel free to tell me your thoughts as I do love talking with you guys yeaaaah

Mondo Oowada had no idea what _the fuck_ he was doing.

It was usually easy to fall into routine, to give into the natural course of his pointless and crappy life. With muscles that could take down several men and skin littered with scars to prove it, Oowada was never a man of feelings. He was a man of action.

That was always how he dealt with things. Thoughts can and _will_ ruin a man. They were sporadic and cannot be contained. What was on the outside was usually easier to handle. A kick on his bike tire or the sound of glass shattering as it came into contact with the baseball bat placed in his hands and years worth of pent up frustration was thrown into a single blow. The adrenaline pumping mad in his veins reeled him in and made it hard to stop. 

It was the high that came with being the leader of a biker gang that kept him from falling apart. When the wind blew past him as he went at speeds Ishimaru would definitely not tolerate, his jacket fanning out behind him, nothing else mattered. He felt that once and it soon became an addiction his body craved for time and time again. Again, it was easy to fall into routine.

And on this particular night, everything was perfect. The nighttime sky was dark but not cloudy, casting a moonlight that still allowed them to slip easily into the shadows to avoid drawing attention to themselves when they wanted to avoid the cops. They usually had no problem doing so, but he preferred to avoid the hassle. His gang trailed behind him as they rode their bikes until they were lightheaded with euphoria. They encountered no patrol cars nor old ladies who always ruined their idea of a good time. Oowada held his silver bat in his hands, an old gift from Kuwata, as he swung it straight into a rickety wooden fence. The surface gave way after only three blows and they snuck inside under the still dark of the night.

“You done it again, Aniki,” said one member of his gang, Hack, as he passed by Oowada. “Can’t wait to see the look on those shitstains’ faces!”

Oowada made no reply. In the distance stood an old house that people generally took as abandoned, but the Crazy Diamonds knew well that it was anything but. Not really.

Sure enough, not ten minutes later, several men appeared from inside the house. Oowada stood in front of his gang, greeting the approaching group with a cocky smile.

“You’re earlier than expected, Oowada-kun,” said one man from the group who was obviously their leader. He had on his usual punk-ass get up, salmon pink hair spiked up in all directions and lips curled up into a sneer.

“Believe me, I’m usually not this punctual. Consider yourself special,” replied Oowada, equally as snide.

“Oh, I do.”

The man’s fist collided with Oowada’s jaw before the latter could prepare himself. He took no time to retaliate, though, throwing a punch at his nose until he heard a satisfying crunch.

The man growled in pain, hands grasping at his face before remembering that he was in a fight or flight situation, and the latter simply was not an option. He shoved Oowada backwards and threw simultaneous punches at him.

Trying to avoid the attacks, Oowada crouched down, grabbed the man’s waist and tackled him to the ground. Pinning him down with knees on either side of his torso, he sent fist after fist flying at any part of him he could get. 

The men were getting noisy, cheering on their respective bosses. Oowada didn’t care. It was great, perfect even.

Great and so wonderfully perfect and he still had no idea what _the fuck_ he was doing.

The routine was something he had been doing for _years._ It was a pattern he was familiar with since the day his brother taught him how to ride a motorcycle and recruited as an official member of the gang. The constant repetitive series of events even frustrated him, but he welcomed the monotony with open arms because it was the closest he could get to having a home.

And tonight was no deviation from the routine. Sneak out. Ride fast. Destroy things. Beat up some shithead he encounters on the way. Gang cheering him on. And he waited for the thrilling madness to kick in, for the adrenaline to come coursing through his veins, making him louder and stronger, more superior to everyone he’s ever known but tonight he just felt _empty._

It didn’t make sense. He’s been down this road hundreds of times. He knew his way around town in the dark of the night with his eyes closed. And yet as he stared down at his enemy and continued to strike his fists in the man’s face, a jarring reality hit him.

He was _lost._

What the hell was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be out like this and it puzzled him to no end. He was Mondo Oowada, god damn it! He was the leader of the Crazy Diamonds and he was so damn good at it that he got into Hope’s Peak Academy for being a roughhousing delinquent. Why, of all places and situations, would he feel so out of place _now_?

He was overcome by the urge to stand up and walk away so he could lie down on his bed and get a good night’s sleep, to leave all the pain and the memories and the responsibility behind and never come back.

Oowada stepped back. The fight had gone on long enough. The man went at him immediately, eyes lit up with fury. In one quick move, Oowada set his hands on the man’s shoulders and brought up his knee to the man’s jaw.

He sneered. “Lights out, ya pig.”

The man’s eyes rolled up behind his eyelids. There was a short split second when he trembled in Oowada’s hands before he finally fell to the ground, limp.

Calmly, Oowada announced his desire to go home. His gang, satisfied with the dose of violence they had been given, were eager to call it a night. 

He tried to remain composed, but inside he was panicking. This was something that had never happened before. What had changed?

It was wrong. Everything felt wrong. And as he lay in bed that night and contemplated on how entirely _wrong_ the situation was, he forced himself to shut down his brain so he could finally get some sleep.

 

_“—let myself in. I hope you don’t mind, kyoudai.”_

Oowada stirred in his sleep, eyes scrunching under the streams of sunlight coming from his window. There was someone in his room, but he was too lazy to open his eyes.

“Are you awake? I didn’t want to bother you, but it’s almost nighttime and you didn’t go to school today so I was worried and—“

His eyes shot open and he sat up on the bed. “The fuck? Whaddaya mean it’s almost nighttime?”

Ishimaru stared at him, mouth agape. “You mean to tell me you’ve been asleep the whole day?”

The gang leader rubbed his eyes and a sharp pain went up his arm. He groaned. He knew he was a heavy sleeper but he’d never slept through an entire day before. He must have been pretty damn exhausted the other night.

Ishimaru appeared at his side, the bed jostling a bit to adjust to the added weight. “Kyoudai, you’re… you’re wounded.”

Just like that, sparks went up inside his body, alerting him of the various points of pain he had earned when fighting with the shithead leader the other night. “Oh. That. Yeah, I went out with the gang last night. Got pretty crazy, I guess.”

He tried to play it off with a laugh, but Ishimaru was nowhere near amused. His face looked like that of a person whose puppy just died, his red eyes raking through every inch of his skin and making him feel extremely self aware. 

Two fingers came up to his cheek, pressing gently. Oowada winced at the dull throb that it sparked.  

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

And just like that, Ishimaru was gone, taking the soft pressing of his fingers with him. The room suddenly went cold and very, _very_ dead.

He didn’t even know what Ishimaru was doing in his house. He gave him a spare key in case of emergencies, yes, but surely he didn’t come over just to check on him?

But maybe he did. Yeah, that was a very kyoudai thing to do. Nothing wrong with that.

He thought back to what Fujisaki told him a few weeks ago. The same day she told him how much Ishimaru liked coffee, and he’d been bringing coffee to him every day ever since.

_“Are you sure you’re never gonna tell him?” she asked as he was putting on his coat, getting ready to leave._

_“Chi, he probably won’t be happy when he finds out. He doesn’t have to know.”_

_“I think you should tell him. And I… I think it can help you, Mon-chan. It will help you move on.”_

_“Have you lost your mind? He’ll never want to speak with me again!” He crossed his arms on his chest and stood defiantly. “Besides, I’ve already moved on. There’s nothing about that past that haunts me to this day.”_

_“Mondo.” She looked at him with a concerned expression. “You know I don’t believe that for a second.”_

_“He doesn’t have to know!” He hissed. “I’m perfectly fine!”_

_“He’s your kyoudai now. He deserves to know. And he’ll understand. He was able to understand when I told him_ my _secret. I’m sure he’ll accept yours too.”_

_Oowada thought about it for a moment and sighed. He hated how Fujisaki was always able to see through his lies, hated how she was always right. Because no matter how hard he tried to show otherwise, there was still a huge part of him that would never forgive himself for what he had done. “Fine. If only to get you to shut up about it. I’ll do it next time I see him.”_

_Fujisaki smiled. “You’re doing the right thing, Mon-chan.”_

Ishimaru entered the room, a box full of first aid supplies in his hands. He sat down beside Oowada again and started cleaning his wounds.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took your first aid kit from your bathroom.” Oowada made a soft hum in reply.

“Where did you get these?” Ishimaru asked.

Oowada winced as Ishimaru disinfected a cut above his brow. “I got into a fight last night. Nothing big. And you shoulda seen the other guy! He was even worse! I mean, he—”

“I’m not asking about the other guy, kyoudai.” The prefect released a sigh. “How often do you do this?”

The gang leader shrugged. “Depends on the mood. Usually about two, three times a week?”

He expected Ishimaru to be mad, to yell at him and berate him for being so irresponsible. But he was only calm.

When Ishimaru’s fingers trailed down his chest, he suddenly became aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. There was a nasty looking bruise on the side of his ribs but it didn’t look too serious. Ishimaru prodded it and let his hand linger for a few moments. Oowada shivered.

“I don’t approve of this lifestyle of yours,” Ishimaru said. “It scares me to see you like this.”

He should have cracked a joke, or made a remark about how Ishimaru needed to loosen up and get wild every once in a while and then they would go back to their easy banter, but he didn’t. The situation felt so… _intimate._ He didn’t want to ruin the mood especially when Ishimaru was looking at him as if he might break.

“It’s not a big deal,” he managed to say. “ _You_ may have beaten me to a pulp, but there’s no one else in Japan who’s able to do worse.”

“That’s not comforting me.”

“Then why do you care so damn much?”

Ishimaru’s hand stilled on his bicep, barely grazing it. “I…” For a moment, he looked genuinely confused, but it was only fleeting. He shook his head, as if to clear out his thoughts. “Because you’re my friend.”

Up close, Oowada noticed how tired Ishimaru was. There were dark circles under his eyes and his pupils lost their usual glow. His face, which was usually lit up with passion and enthusiasm, was veiled with a sadness he’d never seen on them before.

It then occurred to him that because he didn’t go to school that day, Ishimaru hasn’t had any coffee yet.

Hazelnut. He liked the hazelnut one. The first time he brought it for the prefect, he noticed how he was able to down it in half the time he usually did with all the other coffee flavors he brought him. He also licked his lips more often in between sips, not that he’d spent ample amounts of time staring at his kyoudai’s lips of course. _Why the fuck would he do that?_

Oowada cleared his throat to keep his wandering thoughts at bay. “How was your day?”

The prefect shrugged. “Nothing remarkable took place. It was just like any other day.”

“And it was fine with you? You don’t feel weird or out of place or something?”

Ishimaru furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why would I be out of place in school?”

Oowada wanted to slap himself for asking such a dumb question. After all, he was pretty sure Ishimaru would _live_ in school if the rules allowed it. “I don’t know… Maybe you got so used to it already that one day you just woke up and found you haven’t really been doing it all along?”

“Kyoudai, I’m confused.”

“Oh. Never mind, then.”

Something was wrong. Ishimaru wasn’t normally this quiet and unresponsive. To the normal observer, his responses would sound fine, but Oowada knew better. He noticed the hint of hostility in his tone, which was a dangerous place for someone like Ishimaru to be in. He was always on the extremes of either happiness or anger, never one to hide under a calm mask. But today, he was stiff and stoic and if Oowada was being totally honest with himself, it was a tad bit scary.

“Eh, Ishi…”

No response. Ishimaru kept dabbing a cotton on the various cuts on his knuckles, not meeting his gaze. 

Alright. If _that_ was how he chose to act.

“Ishi, talk to me, god damn it!” Oowada pulled his hand from Ishimaru’s hold and pinched the prefect’s nose, tugging on it and pulling the prefect closer.

“Kyoudai!” Ishimaru yelled, swatting his hand away. “What is the matter with you?”

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Ishimaru crossed his arms on his chest and pouted in a way that Oowada definitely did _not_ think was adorable. “I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am _not._ ”

The biker sighed and sat up straighter. Carefully, he put a hand on the prefect’s shoulder. “Kyoudai, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You want to know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is that you shouldn’t be doing this! You could have gotten hurt a lot worse. You could’ve been left unconscious in some alley somewhere or worse, even died!”

“Calm down, will ya? It was just a petty street fight.”

“And it was stupid and irresponsible! It has to stop _now_.”

Oowada leaned back. “Whoa, wait a minute. Since when do you get to tell me what to do?”

“I…” Ishimaru faltered. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

Ishimaru stared at the ground, expression hard. Oowada looked closely to see there were tears already forming in his eyes.

_Way to go, dude. You made him cry again. You’re really, really stupid._

“What on earth are you crying for?”

“ _You!_ ” Ishimaru hissed through gritted teeth. “Do you even realize the danger you’re putting yourself in? And if I can’t be around to protect you when these things happen, then you’ll be gone and I’ll be all alone again.”

Oowada felt his stomach drop. “Ishi, that’s not… I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“Then please promise me that you will never fight anyone again.”

“What? No. I got a gang! Fighting’s what I do!”

Ishimaru put his hands on either sides of Oowada’s face and leaned in, their noses almost touching. His eyes were strained and he looked even more tired than Oowada felt.

“Then you have to promise me not to fight anyone unless you’re in an absolutely life-threatening situation. Are we clear on that, Mondo Oowada?”

The use of his full name caused shivers to run down his spine. He gulped, and that was precisely the moment he realized that no matter how strong he was, he could never be strong enough to say no to any of Ishimaru’s requests.

And was it weird that he was okay with it? He thought back to the day they became brothers. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but in truth it was only about a couple of weeks. He remembered how Ishimaru took in the Fujisaki situation so calmly. He thought about all the times he could’ve sworn he saw a severe darkness in Ishimaru’s eyes, only to be gone a split second later. He admired Ishimaru’s strength and perseverance in everything that he did.

And yet, all he wanted was for Oowada to be safe. The concern was etched deeply in his features, hidden under the layers of anger and frustration. Ishimaru _cared_ for him. It was great and it made him feel whole.

Was that why he felt empty whenever Ishimaru wasn’t around?

In that moment, with Ishimaru’s hands on him, his torso brushing lightly against his own, he knew this was the one person he must not let go of, no matter what it took.

_I’m sorry, Chihiro. I can’t tell him because if I do, I’ll lose him and I will never let that happen._

Oowada locked his arms around Ishimaru’s waist tightly and nodded. 

A blush creeped up Ishimaru’s neck but he did not pull away. Instead, he settled for burying his face in Oowada’s neck.

He tried to ignore how his heartbeat quickened when the prefect’s arms came around his shoulders, how he shivered once again when he felt Ishimaru’s warm breaths on his neck. He tried not to think about how good it felt to have Ishimaru in his arms and how perfectly okay he was with it even though he shouldn’t be.

Neither of them pulled away. It was a strange sensation, to be hugged by someone willingly. Growing up, Oowada was not shown much affection by those around him, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Burying his nose in Ishimaru’s soft hair, he inhaled the prefect’s sweet scent, running his hand gently down his back.

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them speaking for fear that they would ruin the moment. Oowada had no idea what this meant, but he was okay and it felt good and he didn’t have it in him to object.

When Ishimaru pulled back a few minutes later, he looked grim and confused.

Worried, Oowada shot him a smile that was meant to put him at ease. Instantly, a smiled that mirrored his own made its way on Ishimaru’s face, revealing those coffee-stained teeth that Oowada had started thinking was indicative of Ishimaru’s happiness somehow.

“You know we still have to study, you know.”

Oowada rolled his eyes. “Yes, thanks for reminding me.”

The prefect stood up, face adapting an even darker shade of red. “I-I’ll go ahead. You, uh, go get dressed first.” He walked quickly out the door. He stumbled on his own two feet on his way out, making the gang leader chuckle. Oowada listened to his footsteps fading away.

As soon as Ishimaru disappeared, he let his head fall back on the pillows and groaned because he _still_ had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

 

_Earlier that day…_

Naegi hasn’t talked to Kirigiri in two weeks. In fact, it seemed like she was avoiding him.

That was fine. It was all good. Really. He should stop acting like some creepy stalker and leave her be. She’s made it clear that she didn’t want to be friends with him, so he should just let it go.

And he should _really_ stop thinking about her.

There. Deleted. Done.

Back to this week’s episode of Daily Life With Makoto Naegi!

He greeted Fujisaki at the entrance to Hope’s Peak that morning, as he always does of course, but he was surprised to see that she was alone.

“Hey, Chihiro, where’s Ikusaba-san?”

Fujisaki looked around and shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s usually always here by the time I arrive. Maybe she went ahead to the classroom already?”

That was strange. Ikusaba was usually always with either him or Fujisaki. She never talked much, but Naegi can say with confidence that Ikusaba liked their company.

Maybe she was just sick?

Naegi and Fujisaki walked through the halls and talked about homework and all the usual things that high school students should be worrying themselves about instead of whether or not your project partner’s a nasty serial killer or not, especially since she’s done nothing to deny it.

“Hey, wait!” Fujisaki stopped walking and pointed ahead. “There’s Ikusaba!”

And sure enough, a few feet away was Ikusaba, who stood with her feet together and her back straight as she had been taught to do so in the military. She was quiet as she listened to her sister, Junko Enoshima, prattle away about something.

“Should we go say hi?” Naegi asked. Fujisaki shook her head.

“We should wait. I know it’s odd, but her sister gives me the creeps.”

It was true. Super High School Level Fashionista, Junko Enoshima was bubbly as she was beautiful, but she gave off vibes that were beyond comprehension. She looked at people the same way a nervous biology student looked at a frog they were about to dissect: apprehensive, a bit distracted, but they already had the scalpel in their hands anyway, so why bother fighting?

Naegi could hear their conversation from where he stood.

“I trust you, sis. And I want you trust me in the same way too,” said Enoshima.

“I do trust you, Junko. You know that,” Ikusaba replied.

“Why don’t we go hang out later? We haven’t done that in a while. We can go to the mall and have a look at those combat boots I know you’ve had your eye on.”

“I-I’m sorry, sis, but… I can’t do that. I’m really sorry.”

“Mukuro…” she put a hand on Ikusaba’s arm, eyes pleading. “Please. It’s not been the same without you.”

Ikusaba snatched her arm away. “I’ve had enough, Junko! Please just leave me alone for now.”

Enoshima took a step back, and her face took on a transformation so instant, it shot shivers down Naegi’s spine. 

“It’s because of that Naegi kid, isn’t it? I don’t trust him one bit. He’s dangerous. You shouldn’t too, you know.”

Fujisaki gripped his arm tight, startling him. “Naegi. We shouldn’t be listening to this conversation.”

Stunned, he nodded wordlessly and let Fujisaki pull him from the scene.


	12. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naegi finally finds out what Kirigiri has been hiding. He's not sure how to feel about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Detective Kou Inuzuka is a character from Danganronpa: Kirigiri and is not an OC of mine. Just a reminder.

It seemed that the more Naegi tried to ignore the thoughts that perplexed him, the more he ended up befuddled anyway. It’s not enough that he already managed to anger Kirigiri somehow, but he had pissed off Enoshima as well. He hadn’t even exchanged one word with the girl his whole life! Why would he? Enoshima, famous and sociable as she was, was not like Maizono who remained level-headed through her stardom experience. She always seemed like the kind of girl who wouldn’t give Naegi her time of day.

_‘I don’t trust him one bit. He’s dangerous.’_

He was pretty sure that anyone who had ever seen him would agree that ‘dangerous’ was the least appropriate word to describe him. Seriously. Even Komaru was a much more threatening target than he was.

He remembered how on the morning of his first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, he was a big ball of jitters and he felt like throwing up. His mother, taking note of his nervousness, gave him one piece of advice that got him going throughout the rest of the day: _Don’t be scared. Don’t be intimidated. Make friends and have fun. All the rest will follow, you’ll see._

He’s done a pretty good job of it so far. His first friend was Fujisaki, who asked if the seat next to him was occupied on that first day. For the rest of the year, he’d made other acquaintances, but Fujisaki remained his closest companion.

Ikusaba didn’t join their little team until their second year of high school. He didn’t know much about her back then, only that she was Enoshima’s sister despite having different last names. Ikusaba trailed after Enoshima like a lost puppy, waiting for someone to take her in. She was always quiet and looked mildly uncomfortable no matter what she was doing. One day, she approached Naegi and Fujisaki at their table during lunchtime and mumbled an apology, followed with a rather polite request to sit with them. The two welcomed her gladly. Since that day, she was never seen talking to her sister again.

Until today, that is.

“Are you okay, Naegi?” Fujisaki, who sat on the chair behind him, asked worriedly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Does that include anything about Kirigiri-san?”

At the mention of her name, Naegi couldn’t help but jolt a little. It was ridiculous how he acted towards anything that was even remotely connected to the purple-haired girl.

“Why would you think that?!” he replied defensively.

Fujisaki bit her lip. “I don’t mean to frighten you, but she’s been staring daggers at the back of your head since you came in here.”

He turned to look at the back corner of the classroom and sure enough, was met with a pair of calm purple eyes. He gulped.

“Say, Chihiro, _you’re_ a girl,” Naegi turned back to her. “Maybe you can explain to me why girls seem to hate me so much.”

Fujisaki blushed madly. “I-I don’t think that’s true!”

“Then why does Kirigiri-san look like she wants to murder me?”

The programmer let out a soft giggle and smiled. “I may be a girl, Naegi, but believe me when I say that women are just as much of a mystery to me as they are to you.”

He was about to ask her what she meant by that when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he jumped in his seat and turned to face the attacker.

“You have very active reflexes,” said Kirigiri smoothly as she looked down at him. “How well do you do in hand-to-hand combat?”

“Would you like to find out, Kirigiri-san?” Fujisaki chimed from behind him, giggling. Naegi turned to glare at the programmer.

“Maybe some other time. I’m here to talk about something else.”

“Kirigiri-san,” Naegi started, “I thought you were mad at me?”

Kirigiri crossed her arms and stared off into the distance. “I understand it might have been wrong of me to ignore you the past few days. For that, I apologize.”

She came over to _apologize_ to him? His mouth gaped open like a fish out of water. “Uh, no, i-it’s fine!”

“Don’t get me wrong. I still have no desire to pursue any sort of friendship with you.” Well, that was a harsh way of putting it. “But considering that we have been assigned as partners, it’s not like I have a choice.”

“O-oh. Um… Thanks?”

“Tell you what. Meet me after class later and I’ll let you ‘ _take me home’_ again.” Naegi flushed. A knowing smile played on her lips.

“Y-yeah! Sounds great.”

Kirigiri went back to her seat, his eyes following her form. He felt a whack on his head and turned to look at the offender behind him. Fujisaki frowned at him, rolled up magazine in her hand. “You’re too obvious, darn it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You men are always so oblivious to your feelings! I can’t imagine why anyone would be that stupid.” 

“What? No, I’m not!” he defended.

“Oh, please.” Fujisaki waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve seen that very same look on Mondo’s face when I talked to him about his feelings for Ishimaru.”

Naegi’s eyes widened. “Oowada-kun likes Ishimaru?!”

She whacked him on the head again. “You really don’t see it?”

“They look just like normal bros to me!”

Another whack. “Look _harder_!”

In retrospect, the two have been very close lately, but he’d been thinking of more important matters to pay too much attention to them anyway. It was weird to think of the buff and scary gang leader in love with the school’s resident nerd, but then again it’s not like Oowada has ever shown interest in any lady in the past.

“I guess in some weird, totally whacked out way, it kinda works,” he admitted. The seat next to him, where Ishimaru usually sat, was still empty. That was odd. He looked at the back and saw that Oowada’s chair was vacant also. “Speaking of which, where are those two?”

 

Naegi and Kirigiri walked out the doors of Hope’s Peak Academy at the same time after class. He tried to be cool about it, but in reality he was afraid that this afternoon’s affair would turn out to be just like the last time they walked home together. He shuddered to think that would happen.

Then again, she did look significantly happier, which was always a good sign.

They passed the boundaries of the school grounds, crossed a road, and turned to a block of lined up houses. All this was done in silence. But it was a comfortable silence, one that would come naturally to a pair that had been friends for a long time, which was odd of course seeing as he barely even knew Kirigiri.

“I thought about it,” she mumbled, breaking the quiet that surrounded them.

He had been staring at a bird on the ground, pecking away at a leaf that fell from a tree above them. The sound of Kirigiri’s voice was like a douse of cold water that took him back to reality. He turned to her. “What about?”

“Us. Being friends and all.”

“Oh?” Where was she going with this?

“I have decided,” she shoved her hands in the pockets of her blazer, “that it is not as bad an idea as I once thought.”

Naegi felt his heartbeat quicken. “So we’re friends now?” He attempted to keep his tone devoid of any hope, but it was impossible.

“I guess so.” Was she _blushing_? “I-if you’d like to, I mean.”

“Of course I do!” _Play it cool, dammit!_

“Oh.” There was genuine surprise at her voice, but the shock wore off after only a split second and she turned to him, cheeks tinged with pink. “Very well. Then I look forward to this friendship with you, Naegi-kun.”

A smile made its way on her face, a real one. Not the barely there smiles that he’d seen on her before. Those smiles always looked either restrained or forced. This was a genuine smile, one that brought out the light in her eyes and took out all the worry in them. When she smiled, he saw no trace of that intimidating freak that everyone always talked about and avoided like the plague. She smiled like there was a purpose, like she was rewarding someone. That must’ve been her intention, because Naegi felt very rewarded at the moment.

He found himself unable to look away. “Uhhh…” He had no idea what to reply. “Y-you look very pretty when you smile.” He slapped himself mentally. He certainly didn’t intend to say _that!_

She looked away, directing her gaze to the ground. They were still walking, but the direction didn’t matter anymore. “Don’t say such things!” Her curtain of hair kept him from seeing her face, but he did observe the tips of her ears going red.

“It’s true, though,” he said quietly.

They walked in silence for a few moments more, the sun casting an orange glow among them that calmed them down significantly. Naegi felt warm even through the cool breeze that swept to and fro, causing Kirigiri’s long hair to cascade behind her like a floating trail.

Suddenly, she froze. “Wait.” She held out a gloved hand in front of him to make sure that he stopped walking too. “Shh! Listen.”

Naegi stood still and listened so hard that he stopped breathing, but he couldn’t hear anything. He was about to tell her so when she spoke again.

“Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, and whatever happens, _do not follow me_.” She walked past him before he could respond. She kept walking to one of the houses at the side of the road, walked beyond the front yard and slid into the shadows when she entered the side of the house to what Naegi presumed would be the back door.

He stood, perplexed. There was nothing odd about the house. If anything, it looked just the same as all  the other houses on the block. Did she normally do this at the most random times?

He sighed. It seemed that if he was going to be friends with someone as odd as Kirigiri, he was going to have to do a lot of waiting.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he kicked a stone on the ground and watched it skip its way to the road, where it was promptly crushed by a speeding car not a minute after. It was getting dark now. How long was Kirigiri going to stay in there? And did she really expect him to wait for her?

Maybe he should go home. Who knows? That little trick might have been her nice way of blowing him off. Maybe all that friendship mumbo jumbo they talked about a few moments ago had just been some cruel joke of fate.

Ten minutes passed. No lights came from inside the house that Kirigiri entered. Wait. Wasn’t that trespassing? She could get arrested for that, right?

A police car stopped in front of the house. Naegi gasped. How did they find out already? Wait, if they were underage, were they still going to serve time for trespassing?

He shook his head. _He_ wasn’t trespassing. After all, Kirigiri had left him there on the other side of the road. But could he really handle the guilt of knowing that he just left her there?

The doors of the police car opened and out came three men. One of them saw Naegi and approached him.

“You there! You noticed anything about this house?”

He gulped nervously. What was going on? “Uh, no, sir. I was just walking by… Is something wrong?”

Another policeman spoke to him. “We received a call from a neighbor saying there was some funny business around here. We came to check it out.”

Funny business? What funny business? Kirigiri’s in there!

“Can I come in with you?” He pleaded. 

“Are you kidding me? No way we’re letting a kid near whatever the hell might be in there!”

His heart beat fast, but his mind only held one thought: Kirigiri was in there. If he wanted to find out what happened to her, he needed to think fast.

“Ah, actually that is my aunt’s house! Now that you say there’s something wrong, I need to see what it is. Please.”

The three policemen looked at one another. “Fine,” said the first one. “But you’re not allowed to get _too_ close.”

They walked to the front door and knocked. When they were met with no answer, the second policeman tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. 

“Guess we’re going in, then.”

Naegi’s heart was beating so fast, he could barely hear anything else. The moment they entered past the front door, fear seized him in a tight grip as all the breath was knocked out of his chest.

Because there was Kirigiri, standing well and fine in the middle of the room. And at her feet lay the dead body of a little boy whose eyes were still wide with the shock that took away his last breath.

Kirigiri glanced at them and addressed the policemen as she spoke. “That sure took you a long time. So, are you going to arrest me yet?”

Naegi felt like he could faint at any moment. Too many things about Kirigiri had confused him in the past, but this one just took the cake.

 

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Naegi could barely keep track of the events even as they unfolded before his very eyes. As soon as the officers discovered the body, they made a call to the station and not ten minutes later, a team of forensics barged into the house and began examining the crime scene. A few seconds after, in came a pudgy man in a tan trench coat. He took one look at the corpse, shifted his gaze to Kirigiri, and then finally to Naegi.

“Who’s the punk?” He asked her.

Kirigiri had her arms crossed on her chest and her expression made her look ten years older. “He was just passing by,” she replied.

The man looked at Naegi from head to toe. He felt wildly exposed under his gaze. The man was sickly pale and unkempt. He had a five o’clock shadow and red rings framed his yellowish eyes. His voice was gruff and he talked with a bit of a slur. Looking down, Naegi noticed a neck of a bottle of gin peeking out from under his coat.

“Naegi,” Kirigiri spoke, “This is Detective Kou Inuzuka. He’s assigned to the Sagittarii Killings case.”

 _You’ve got to be kidding me,_ Naegi wanted to reply. The man looked like he was either drunk, high, or dead. Jeez, no wonder they couldn’t get a whiff of the real killer.

“Skeptic, I see,” he said. “Alright. You don’t look like a bad guy. I’ve seen tons of bad guys in my days, and you ain’t one of ‘em. You’re in high school, and you tripped over your shoelaces a lot, judging by the state of your aglets and the slight wear at the edges of the rubber. Your jacket is worn haphazardly, meaning you’re not exactly a tidy boy, but you smell faintly of fabric softener and the cloth is in pretty good shape. Your mom does your laundry, which means you still have a mom unlike most people I know.” His eyes swept to Kirigiri briefly. “You rode a bike to school this morning but you forgot it there cause I ain’t seen any bike around when I walked in.”

At that, he was reminded that he _did_ forget his bike at school today. He was so excited at the prospect of walking with Kirigiri that the fact that he took his bike with him in the morning completely escaped him. Who the fuck forgets something like _that_?

He stared at Inuzuka in shock. Okay. So maybe he was a little bit good. “I…” He was about to say something in reply, but Inuzuka had already walked past him and made his way over to the body.

Now that his attention was drawn back to more important matters, Naegi took note of the poor little boy lying dead on the floor and the reality of the situation really dawned on him. The kid couldn’t have been more than five-years-old. Whoever had the gall to do this to someone so helpless was obviously a ruthless man.

Someone just died. And he discovered the body. This murder was somehow connected to the Sagittarii killings. Kirigiri was alone with the boy for a long time. 

He struggled to make sense of it.

The boy’s body was badly mangled. His blood seeped on the floor, but it had dried up almost completely.  There was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. A nasty looking deformation at the side of his skull made Naegi’s stomach sink and twist uncomfortably.

“What do you have, Kirigiri?” Detective Inuzuka asked, eyes unmoving from the corpse on the floor.

“Various wounds and bruises all over the body and blunt force trauma on the right side of the skull, all of which were inflicted post-mortem. The boy’s heart is also missing for some reason.”

“ _Post-mortem?_ What in god’s name for? He’s just a little boy!”

“Then what was the cause of death?” Naegi interrupted, more out of bursting curiosity than anything. “If all the gory stuff was done after, how did he die?”

Detective Inuzuka shook his head. “What do ya think, punk? It’s the Sagittarii Killer at work. Of course, the kid was poisoned.”

“But this is new.” Kirigiri said thoughtfully. “The Sagittarii Killer has always been merciful with their victims. Why did they suddenly feel the need to add all this? What did this boy do to offend a serial killer?”

“Who knows? Maybe the bastard wanted to be more artistic.”

The forensics team gathered up different pieces of evidence as they swept about the room. Naegi was tired. He just wanted to go home and forget this ever happened.

“Wait!” Kirigiri motioned to a forensic scientist holding a bag of evidence. “If I may, please can I have a look at that?”

Inuzuka put a hand on the forensics person’s shoulder, glaring. “No. This girl is not allowed to have any piece of evidence. You hear me?”

“What? Sir, with all due respect, I think it’s beginning to make sense now.” Kirigiri’s tone had risen, breaking through her usual calm. “Please listen to me. I have been hot on the heels of the Sagittarii Killer for months now, and what is in that bag might be the vital piece I need to finish them off once and for all.”

Inuzuka pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “Look, kiddo. I know you’re brilliant and all and your grandfather was some legendary piece of shit or something, but here’s the thing: This isn’t _your_ case. It’s _mine_. And I’d appreciate it if you took your hands off my evidence and _backed. Off_.”

She frowned. The rage in her eyes was clear even though she tried to remain her composure. Naegi thought she looked absolutely murderous. 

“Fine. You don’t want to listen to what I have to say so I can try to help you? Go ahead. I’ll solve this case _alone._ ” And with that, Kirigiri stormed off, grabbing Naegi’s arm when she passed by him and pulled him along to the front door.

The night was still and silent. The soles of Kirigiri’s boots padded mercilessly on the pavement as Naegi waited patiently for her to speak. She did eventually, once they were a bit of a distance away from the house.

“I told you not to follow me inside the house.” Oh, biscuits. She was definitely still mad.

“You were gone for a long time! And then the police came in and what was I supposed to do? I was worried!”

“You disobeyed my instructions and you saw something you shouldn’t have seen. Are you happy now that you finally know?”

He paused in his tracks. With everything that he’d seen within the last hour, it was a struggle to make sense of anything. She stopped walking too, breathing heavily.

“Actually, it’s still a bit fuzzy. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Figure it out for yourself,” she snapped. Her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket. 

He gulped. He supposed he had a feeling the moment Inuzuka got angry with her, but he didn’t want to make any more assumptions any more ridiculous than his assumption that Kirigiri _was_ the Sagittarii Killer. It seemed so… far-fetched. The crime scene. How natural it was for her to be there. How the police didn’t even bat an eyelash when they saw her with the dead body. 

“Detective. You’re a detective.”

“Yes.”

“But when we went in, you said ‘are you going to arrest me yet?’ What was that all about?”

“An inside joke between me and the force. They tried to arrest me the first time I handled a case because they thought _I_ was the murderer.”

“Oh.”

She refused to meet his gaze. “Now that you know, you’ll leave me alone, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I knew you’d find out eventually, but I thought I could keep it from you for a while,” she said feebly.

“But I don’t understand why you have to keep it a secret. I mean, it would’ve saved you a load of trouble,” he said, remembering all the rumors that have sprung about her because she chose to remain quiet.

“Naegi, I solve murders _for a living_. I have been in more life-threatening situations than I could count. Don’t you understand?”

“Understand what? So you’re a detective, well, that’s brilliant!”

Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly. She had never been so vulnerable than she was at her current state.

“Think, Naegi! This is why I can’t tell anyone what my specialty is. This is what I meant when we said we can’t be friends.”

“That’s not true.”

“You and I both know that it is. And it’s fine. I’ve accepted it. It’s the price I have to pay if I want to further refine my skill.” She withdrew her arms and wrapped them around her frame. “Until _you_ came along and I started to doubt myself. So I decided maybe… maybe I can delight myself for just a little while.”

He swallowed the nerves building up in his throat. “I told you I wanted to be friends. I don’t see why it has to change.”

“This won’t work. Every person that I associate with is in constant danger because of who I am and what I do. And I can’t do that, Naegi. Not to anyone, and _especially_ not to you.”

Naegi felt a pang of sadness for her. The fact that he still wanted to be friends even when he knew her secret hadn’t even occurred to her. He shuddered to think the loneliness she must be going through. He barely knew her, but he knew enough to be certain that she wasn’t a bad person. But how was he going to prove to her that her being a detective only made him admire her even more?

The mystery girl, at last come undone in front of him. She was no longer a mystery, but in her he saw a whole new set of wonders and he knew that he couldn’t stay away from her even if he tried.

But he was terrible at saying what he really felt, and he figured Kirigiri didn’t have time for any of his sappy thoughts, so he took on the more logical approach. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking that.”

He nodded. “Good. That means you trust me. I won’t treat you any different, but if you need my help, I’m just here. Is that alright?”

“In all honesty, I’m still not sure whether I trust you or not. But now I guess I kind of have to.” She still seemed doubtful, but if it meant seeing her happy, Naegi was willing to take things one step at a time.

 

The next night, around ten o’clock, Naegi was roused by a stone hitting his bedroom window. He looked out and saw Kirigiri. Everyone in the house was already asleep, so he made his way out to meet her as quietly as he could.

She was in formalwear, a tight black blazer and a skirt that was _way_ too short for Naegi not to take notice of. He blushed, averting his gaze from her long legs, currently devoid of the knee-high boots she usually wore.

“Kirigiri-san, what are you doing here?”

“Hush.” She opened her bag and took out what looked like a suit jacket. “You said you would help me, right? Well get dressed. We’re going investigating.”

 

A couple of hours after that, a few blocks away from the Naegi residence, Ishimaru was also roused from his sleep by the sound of his ringtone.

Groggily, he flipped on his stomach and grabbed the phone off his nightstand. The name _Mondo Oowada_ flashed on the screen. He answered the phone with a groan.

“Kyoudai, what’re you callin’ at this ungodly hour for?”

_“Kiyotaka… Come here. Please. I need you.”_

The prefect sat up on his bed, rubbing his eyes. The voice was Oowada’s but it didn’t sound right.

“Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”

_“Please… Need to—hic!—tell ya somethin’.”_

Ishimaru got out of bed and started putting on some pants.

“Mondo, stay where you are. I’m on my way.”


	13. Late Night Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naegi and Kirigiri go out and investigate. Things go a bit awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that my chapter titles have begun to sound like Sims expansion packs.
> 
> I'm also updating a lot I'm really sorry I'm just really excited to get the story going hope you guys don't mind.

Of all the things Naegi has done in his life, this was by far the craziest.

Not only was he sneaking out in the dead of night without his parents’ permission, he was also doing so for the purpose of hunting down a criminal. And most striking of all was that he _wanted_ to do it. Even now, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea.

The night was decidedly cool, but the suit he wore was unnatural and felt hot and sticky on his skin. He loosened the collar, trying to get some air in.

“You’re wrinkling the suit, Naegi.” Kirigiri straightened out his collar. 

“Sorry. It’s just a bit stuffy.”

She walked back to the sidewalk and motioned for Naegi to follow her. The street was quiet, with most houses already at lights out. As they walked, Kirigiri swept her hair up into a ponytail so that it didn’t obstruct her view.

“Lesson number one in investigating: Always look professional. No one will take us seriously if we don’t look moderately presentable.”

“Oh.” He was sure that Kirigiri would be able to pass off as an adult without problem, but with himself he wasn’t as certain. Aside from the fact that he was a little bit on the short side, his baby-faced nature caused most people to often mistake _him_ as the younger sibling instead of Komaru. It was embarrassing on an overwhelming number of occasions. “I’m not sure if I can do that. Even if I am wearing the suit.”

“No, you’ll do fine. Maybe fix your hair a little bit.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he said, patting wildly at his head.

Kirigiri stopped walking and turned to him. She smoothed a hand on his hair, trying to bring down that one rebellious strand that always stuck out in the air. After several attempts, she sighed in defeat and continued walking.

“You may ask questions if you want. I know you have many.”

“So, uh…” Naegi started. “Your specialty is… _this_?”

“I am the Super High School Level Detective, yes. It is never announced, of course, but if you check the school records, that is what’s written there.”

“And your dad is… okay with that?” 

“Quite the contrary, he thinks the detective profession is vile and avoids it at all cost,” she replied. “But he has no say in what I do, so it doesn’t matter.”

Naegi was curious as to whether there was more about her relationship with the headmaster, but he decided not to push it if she wasn’t comfortable. “How did you find out you wanted to be a detective? And why start out so early?”

“I come from a long line of detectives, actually. The Kirigiri name is quite profound in the business.” She shrugged. “Although, of course, we prefer to keep quiet. The art of deduction runs through our veins. My father was the first of our clan to defy the profession, whereas I knew from the moment my grandfather taught me how to scan for fingerprints that this is who I was destined to be.”

He had a feeling she wasn’t going to tell him any more than that, so he figured it was best to change the subject now.

“So… Where are we going exactly?” he asked.

“Back to the victim’s house. We’re going to pay a visit to the boy’s mother.”

“Isn’t it a bit too late for that?” He checked his watch. It was nearing eleven in the evening.

Kirigiri shook her head. “I already spoke with her this afternoon, and she told me to come back at a later time.”

“Isn’t that a bit odd?”

Her eyebrows quirked and she shot him a glance. “How so?”

“I mean, you already had the chance to talk at a reasonable hour, but she makes an appointment for the middle of the night. It’s just… well, odd.”

Kirigiri made a close-lipped smile. “That’s very astute, Naegi. Yes, I do find it a bit odd, which is why I have asked you to come with me.”

“I’m flattered and all, but I don’t really think I can do much.”

“I’m sure you’ll be useful somehow.” They were only a few blocks away from the house now. “Try not to get killed,” she added in a teasing tone.

“I won’t.”

They reached the house. It looked exactly the same as the first time Naegi saw it, only now there was a light coming from the inside. The pair looked at it from across the road. Naegi was suddenly nervous again.

“Listen, Naegi,” Kirigiri spoke in a hushed tone. “Whatever happens in there is out of my hands. We could be walking into a trap and not know it. Although of course there exists the possibility that we will escape unscathed, but in the same way there also exists the opposite.”

“It’s alright. I agreed to this after all.”

“If at any point you feel that you’re in danger, you can walk out of this place and never look back. I won’t blame you for it.”

“No. I’m not leaving without you.”

“I…” She paused, stunned by what he said. Without another word, she crossed the road and he followed.

Kirigiri rang the doorbell and footsteps can be heard from the inside. “The name of this woman is Aiko Matsui, and she is a witness to the poisoning of her son, Toshi Matsui.”

“Wait, you mean she saw the moment the boy died?”

She nodded. Naegi suddenly felt sick. It must’ve been awful, seeing your son wither away before your very eyes. “She was inside the house yesterday when the police came in, but was too scared to show herself. The police found her a few minutes after you and I left, and she was in a state of shock. For now, the trauma of the situation affects her severely, meaning she can’t give any accurate depictions of what she saw.”

“Then why are we here if she can’t give any information?”

“Because I have a gut feeling that she’s relevant to the case. And she knows more than she lets on.” The door knob clicked and twisted. “And my gut feelings are always right.”

The door opened to reveal a short, plump woman. She had a soft gaze and her hair was graying at the edges. Her eyes were heavy with stress and her composure wore down her entire frame, which was understandable given recent circumstances.

It was understandable that she looked so miserable.

“Mrs. Matsui,” Kirigiri greeted. She fished inside her blazer and brought out what appeared to be her ID. “I am Detective Kyouko Kirigiri. We’re here to ask you some questions.”

“Yes, dear, I believe we’ve spoken before. You didn’t need to introduce yourself again.” Mrs. Matsui was a soft-spoken woman. She opened the door wider.

“Just following protocol, ma’am,” Kirigiri responded.

Mrs. Matsui nodded and her eyes landed on Naegi. “And who’s he?”

Naegi gulped. “Uh…”

“He’s my bodyguard,” Kirigiri lied smoothly. “I hope you don’t mind, but it’s a bit late in the night and I am, after all, just a small girl.”

“Um, yes, that’s right!” Naegi shot her a smile. “Just doing my job, madam!”

Mrs. Matsui nodded again. “Do come in, then. I already have some snacks ready.”

They entered the house fully. The scene felt so surreal to Naegi. Just a day before, he had entered the same room and spotted the most gruesome sight he’d ever seen. Images of the little boy’s dead body was still fresh in his mind. He tried to imagine him as a normal kid, like the ones he always saw playing on the park on his way to school. He tried to picture the boy perched on top of a slide or yelling in happiness whenever he went down on a seesaw, but he couldn’t bring himself to picture it fully. There was the boy sliding down a park slide as the blood ran from the top of his head and down the sides of his neck, clinging like sweat. He was yelling in happiness, in spite of the gaping hole in his chest.

A five-year-old boy caught up in one man’s insanity. In the span of just a few seconds, all of that was taken away from a helpless child. And not just that, but they had the gall to disrespect his body after his death too. What sort of sick, twisted person would be capable of doing something so ruthless?

“Take a seat,” said Mrs. Matsui, gesturing to the sofa. “I’m quite sorry about the mess. I haven’t had the chance to clean yet.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly understandable, ma’am,” Kirigiri said. She and Naegi sat side by side on the sofa while Mrs. Matsui occupied a couch across them. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Just tell us what you saw at the time of your son’s death, and what you did afterwards.” Naegi cringed inwardly. Kirigiri was blunt. She did not beat around the bush with her questions, which usually was a good thing, but surely she could’ve noticed how traumatized the poor mother was, right? 

“I, uh…” Mrs. Matsui fidgeted with her fingers. “I honestly don’t know how the poison got in my son’s food. I _made_ the food that he ate! I know it wasn’t there.”

“What about drinks? What did the victim drink to the meal that you made?” Kirigiri inquired.

“Uh…” She lit up suddenly. “Yes! He brought back a drink from school. It was some kind of juice that was in a bottle.”

“Was it already opened by the time he went home?”

The mother nodded. 

Kirigiri put a gloved hand to her chin. “That answers a lot. The killer could have inserted the poison at any time before the boy went home. After all, it isn’t that hard to distract a five-year-old.”

Mrs. Matsui looked on the verge of tears. “He went home and ate, but the moment he finished his drink, he started shaking and I… I panicked! I grabbed the phone to call an ambulance, but by the time the line was answered, my son was already gone.”

“Something’s still not right…” Naegi remarked. The two girls looked to him. He flushed a little, but continued his explanation. “That can’t be it. If the killer had inserted the poison _before_ the boy went home, then what about the wounds and bruises on his body? Kirigiri, you concluded that they were done post-mortem. If so, then the killer had to have been inside this house the whole time!”

Kirigiri nodded. “You are correct.” Her gaze flicked over to a door situated behind Mrs. Matsui’s head. “What’s behind that door?”

The mother frowned. “It’s my office. Is there something wrong?”

The detective shook her head. “No, it’s nothing ma’am. Anyways, what happened after the victim’s death and why is it that we never encountered you when we investigated the scene?”

“Well, I… I got so frightened, you see! I ran up the stairs and locked myself in my room and hid there until the officers found me about an hour later.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Naegi interrupted once again. “Pardon me, Mrs. Matsui, but your son just _died._ Why didn’t you _call_ the police?”

“As I said, little boy, I was frightened. Toshi-san, he… He was so young!” Tears started pouring down her cheeks. Naegi suddenly felt bad for bursting in.

“Naegi,” Kirigiri said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “For now, let’s just assume that her explanation is reasonable, and that the killer was able to mangle the boy’s corpse after Mrs. Matsui locked herself in her room, but before I went in and saw the body for myself.”

Naegi nodded, but he eyed the weeping mother more warily. He couldn’t get rid of the gut feeling that she was lying, but what she was lying about and for what reason was still unclear.

Mrs. Matsui stood up. “I’m going to get some biscuits from the kitchen. Excuse me, I need some time to compose myself before we continue.”

“Kirigiri, we have to get out of here,” Naegi said once Mrs. Matsui disappeared.

“Not without knowing what’s inside that door."

“There’s nothing inside that door! Please. I just have a bad feeling about her.”

“I have been working on this case for too long and for the first time, I feel like I’m getting somewhere.” Kirigiri stood up. “I need to know more.”

She walked to the front door. “Are you coming, Naegi?”

He followed her and they exited the house as quietly as they could. Naegi expected her to keep walking towards the road, but as soon as they set foot on the grassy lawn, she broke out into a sprint towards the side of the house. Startled, he leapt on his feet and followed her.

She paused in front of a glass window. “I noticed this the first time I snuck in this house. It leads to the room that we were just talking about.” She pushed on the glass and found it open.

“Kirigiri, this is trespassing!”

But she already had a leg over the windowsill. She leapt inside the dark room gracefully and quietly. With a frustrated sigh, Naegi followed suit.

Aside from the few streams of moonlight coming from outside, there was nothing else to light the room. Naegi was essentially blind. “What are we even supposed to do here?” He whispered.

“Just go around the room and look for something you think might be important.”

There was a pungent stench in the air that made Naegi’s nose crinkle. In the darkness and silence of the room, he was not able to hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears. As time went on, his eyes began to adjust to the lack of lighting and he was able to navigate himself better through the room.

He started near the window, where a wooden desk was pushed against the wall bellow it. Various items were placed on the desk, mostly just pens and papers with some writings on them. He pushed them aside, unearthing a white ring with a skull and crossbones adornment underneath. He recognized it as the same ring that he saw as a drawing in Kirigiri’s journal. Without thinking, though admittedly he had the faintest gut feeling that it was important, he snatched it in his hand and put it in his pocket.

“Naegi, come over here for a moment.”

He followed the sound of her voice and paused when he could smell the scent of her vanilla shampoo, which admittedly was a welcome relief from the awful smell of the room.

“What did you find out?” he asked her.

“I think I’m on to something, but I need more light just to be sure.” She took out her phone from the inside of her blazer and turned it on, casting a dim light over their faces. She turned it around and towards what looked to be a stone pedestal that stood erect smack dab in the middle of the room.

Now that Naegi was able to see more of the scene, he noticed how the smell was strongest in this area.

“Hey, Kirigiri, do you happen to know what’s causing that foul odor?”

She nodded. “I’ve grown accustomed to it over the years. It’s part of the job, after all.” Briefly, he wondered how long Kirigiri had been a detective. A seventeen-year-old in the force was already a rarity but she said she’s been at it for _years._

She shone her light at the top of the pedestal and there they saw something that made Naegi’s stomach drop.

“As I thought,” Kirigiri remarked. Naegi could practically _hear_ the smugness in her tone. “It all makes sense now.”

He kept his eyes trained on the glass case at the top of the pedestal. Well, it was really more of a basin than a case. It was filled to the brim with a clear liquid, and inside swam a lonely human heart.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Don’t get distracted,” she said, swirling a gloved finger in the liquid. “Formaldehyde. I’d know that stench from a mile away.”

“I-Is this…?”

“Yes, in case you haven’t caught on yet, that is Toshi Matsui’s heart.”

Cold sweat broke out of Naegi’s forehead and he felt as if the world was spinning and he was getting left behind. 

“We were on the wrong track all along,” she continued. “We were too focused on catching the Sagittarii Killer, and I let it cloud my vision. I let it distract me from the truth.”

“I don’t get it! Are you saying the boy wasn’t murdered by the Sagittarii Killer after all?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. This is, without a doubt, a Sagittarii killing case. But we were wrong in one part: The mangling, wounding, and disfiguring of the corpse. Do you understand what I’m saying, Naegi?” 

He tried to stop the world from spinning so that he could think clearly. “It means… It means that the person that killed him and the one that mangled his corpse were two different people.”

She smiled softly. “Exactly. We know for sure the Sagittarii Killer is the former, so that means that the latter person can only be…?”

“…Aiko Matsui. The victim’s mother.”

“Bingo.”

The door opened behind them. The sound of footsteps approaching made all the hairs on the back of Naegi’s neck stand up.

“I don’t appreciate people snooping around my stuff and sticking their noses where they aren’t supposed to be.” Mrs. Matsui’s voice was clearer. Darker. So much deadlier.

They turned to face her. Naegi could feel his knees quivering as he hoped to whatever deity was there that Kirigiri can somehow get them out of this.

“We apologize, Mrs. Matsui,” Kirigiri said in her usual calm manner. How she managed to still be brave even in a situation like this was beyond Naegi. “Please excuse us. Once we get a whiff of truth, we are sure sure to follow its trail to the very end.”

Mrs. Matsui stared at them coldly. “Have you figured it out?”

“Yes, we have.” She turned around and circled the pedestal, hand on her chin in her usual thinking pose. “What I don’t understand is _why_. And how.”

“He was your son,” continued Naegi. “How could you?”

“I don’t expect little meddlers like _you_ to understand!” She threw her hand in front of her and to the pedestal. The basin along with the poor boy’s heart toppled to the floor with a loud thud. Formaldehyde seeped in the soles of Naegi’s shoes, causing him to shudder. 

He stared dumbly at the lone organ and his insides filled with dread. “Th-that used to be alive,” he said hoarsely.

“And now he’s _dead!_ ” She spat, baring her teeth. “And I… I miss him so terribly. I wanted to keep… a part of him… with me… _forever…_

“You don’t understand. When I saw my dying son, I was filled with a grief so unimaginable… So strong a-and _potent._ It reached into me and tore me, transformed me from the inside out…”

“That’s impossible,” Kirigiri interrupted. “I have seen many sorrowful mothers before. Grief doesn’t work like that. Grief doesn’t turn someone into a monster.”

“You’re right, detective lady! It seems you’re not as stupid as I thought!” She screeched, and Naegi swore her voice changed so drastically. It was like she was an entirely different person. She straightened up and hugged her arms around her small frame, bouncing on her heels and toes. A strangled half-choke, half-laugh broke out of her throat as she clutched even tighter, her knuckles turning white. “ _This_ isn’t grief. I should have known that all along. This is something much, much more powerful, it leaves a bitter taste in one’s mouth! It’s sad, but at the same time it’s _good..._ Yes. It feels so good, as if everything is as it should be and all the stars are in place! This… This _despair_ I’m feeling… It’s so, _so_ good… _”_

Naegi heard Kirigiri’s frightened gasp and felt her hand grip his wrist. “Naegi, we have to get out of here. _Now!_ ”

An arm shot out from the darkness and wrapped around Naegi’s neck, holding him in a tight headlock. He struggled to break free, but the mother was surprisingly strong. He stood stock still when he felt the cool barrel of a gun being pressed to his temple.

In front of him, Kirigiri was staring at him like she’d seen a ghost.

“You kids aren’t going _anywhere._ ”

Kirigiri took a step forward, hands out in front of her. She was distraught. “Mrs. Matsui! I—”

“Not a step closer, Detective, or I’ll shoot!” To emphasize, she tightened her grip on Naegi and pressed the gun on him even harder.

She paused, holding her hands up in the air. “Alright. I… Please, just… Don’t hurt him.”

“Kirigiri… _Run!_ ” Naegi tried to say through choking fits.

The detective seemed to regain her composure. She shook her head slowly. “You can’t shoot.”

“I can and I will!” Her tone was strained and her hands were shaking. This did not comfort Naegi any further.

“If you shoot, the whole town will know. There’s a reason why the Sagittarii never uses guns. It’s a lot easier to get away with the crime if no one hears you do it.”

Mrs. Matsui’s grip loosened by a fraction, realizing that Kirigiri was right. There was no way she could shoot that gun without alerting her neighbors. Just when Naegi thought he could finally pull himself free from the awful grasp, she brought the gun up and slammed its butt on the back of his head in a last minute expression of distress.

He dropped to the floor. The last thing he saw was a pair of lavender eyes gazing down at him, contained in them was the most terrified expression he’s ever seen.

And then everything went black.


	14. Late Night Wanderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishimaru goes to Oowada's house and discovers things and Naegi and Kirigiri are trapped in some crazy woman's office with a human heart and it's not as romantic as Naegi thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I wish I had a plausible excuse but really I just got caught up in playing Ace Attorney Investigations 2 ((gregory edgeworth is far too precious for this world halp)) and when I sat down to write I got a major case of the block. Well, here's chapter 14 now.

Although under normal circumstances, Ishimaru wouldn’t dare defy rules, it was easy enough for him to sneak out in the middle of the night without alerting his mother. He tried to feel less guilty about it. It’s not as if his mother banned him from going out anyway. He could’ve walked out right under her nose and she wouldn’t say any objecting word.

On the other hand, if that happened, she might think he was leaving her. He cringed. Images of his mother grieving over the lost of his only son clouded his mind. _No,_ he told himself. _I would never do that. I will never be like_ him.

He closed the door behind him as gently as he could and broke out into a run.

The phone call from Oowada had been unexpected, but the slur in his voice while he talked caused Ishimaru to panic. What happened to him? He hoped to the heavens he hadn’t done anything reckless again.

After alerting the gang leader that he was leaving, he only had time to change his pants before walking out. He still wore the pale blue shirt he had been sleeping in, but he had on a pair of white pants from a uniform set that he prized so much and wore whenever he could.

Usually they were tucked in his boots. He didn’t have time for that now.

The fabric swished awkwardly around his ankles. It was unfamiliar. His running was out of rhythm just because of it. He trudged on into the nighttime air, sweat gradually gathering on his forehead. Heart thumping. Stomach twisting. He worried his lip between his teeth. To him it seemed that he couldn’t get to Oowada’s house fast enough.

Whatever the man wanted to tell him, it sounded pretty important if it couldn’t wait until the morning. He hoped it wasn’t bad news.

A few minutes more of this cycling of actions and at last his destination came into view. It was nearing midnight already—maybe even past that. Ishimaru didn’t bring a watch with him so he couldn’t be sure. The full moon was dimmed by a layer of clouds and it was difficult for him to discern the pavement from the rest of the ground as he walked to Oowada’s front door. He walked faster, itching to get there already. Huffing as he hastened his steps, he slipped on a stone and cursed in a hushed tone.

He arrived on the front porch. Taking a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles on the wood and waited.

And waited.

And _waited._

He tapped his foot on the ground. Why was Oowada not answering him? Had he fallen asleep already?

He pressed his ear on the door, listening for any signs of movement from within. Nothing.

He frowned. If he wasn’t going to answer then his whole trip had all just been a waste. What an odd thing for someone to do! He hated to think that his kyoudai would be so inconsiderate, but at present it seemed he could not draw any other conclusion.

Footsteps came from within. The door opened so suddenly and the prefect, who had been leaning his weight against it, fell into a pair of strong arms.

Oowada put a hand on his mouth, cutting out his yelp. “Keep quiet, god damn it.”

Ishimaru was surprised but instantly relieved. He nodded. He wanted to say something in reply, but the gang leader’s hand was firm on his mouth.

Oowada’s other hand slid down to his waist. Ishimaru allowed himself to be pushed flushed against his body as the gang leader pulled him inside.

As soon as Ishimaru went in, he took one look at the room and froze.

“K-kyoudai,” he said, prying Oowada’s hand from his mouth. “It reeks in here.”

Oowada leaned close, lips tickling his ear. “ _Mmm…_ Yeah, sorry ‘bout the mess…” 

The hall monitor stood rigid, his thick brows furrowed in severe concern. He knew that smell. He’d become quite well acquainted with it when he was young and would have lived a happy life never having to get a whiff of it again.

“But…” he struggled to form a coherent sentence. “It smells like alcohol.”

He felt Oowada nod beside him. “I-ahh… Had a rough night… _Mmm…_ ” His arms kept a tight grip on Ishimaru’s waist, not wanting to let go of him even as they stood in the middle of the room. Ishimaru felt his heartbeat quicken inside his chest as the gang leader skimmed his nose down his jawline, drawing in slow, deep breaths. “Wanted to see you so bad.”

“You’re drunk.”

Oowada scoffed. “I know.”

“I…” He clenched his fists, squirming under his grasp. He remained calm despite the fact that his brain was undergoing severe levels of stress. “Kyoudai, please let go of me.”

“ _No,_ ” answered the gang leader like a petulant child. His arms tightened around Ishimaru, making the hall monitor let out a squeak. “Stay.”

“There’s a bottle of alcohol toppled over and pouring on your floor right now,” he tried to reason with him. “I need to clean it up.”

“ _Fine._ ”Oowada sighed and stepped back, reluctantly letting go of the hall monitor. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides. “But we’re not done yet, alright?”

Ishimaru didn’t understand what he meant by that, but he nodded.

He walked over to the coffee table and righted the bottle. The floor under it was wet and sticky. He couldn’t for the life of him be bothered to identify what type of alcohol Oowada had been drinking as he knew nothing about that stuff.

Oowada settled down on the couch, watching him.

“Kyoudai, do you have a mop?”

He received a shrug in reply. Ishimaru sighed in frustration and walked to the kitchen in search of anything he could use to clean up the spill.

He made a beeline for the sink and washed his hands, the feel of cold running water grounding him. It calmed down his raging thoughts a bit. Taking deep breaths, he closed the tap and went to search for some paper towels. He found it after only a few tries in opening cupboards. The place wasn’t well-stocked. He only saw a bunch of unused glassware and some instant ramen. When he went back to the living area, Oowada was staring at the wall from his position on the couch, chin on his hand. 

After cleaning up the wet floor as well as he could, he took the bottles—three in all—and went out to throw them in the trash. He didn’t even care that it wasn’t proper recycling. He was too mad to think about that now.

Yes, he was angry at Oowada. _Extremely_ angry. He knew the gang leader had a knack for breaking the rules, but this was a new low, even for him. When he sees Oowada, he is going to give him a serious talk about the stupidity of his actions. 

Because if there was anything he couldn’t stand aside from bullies and geniuses, it was drunk people.

And no matter how much he treasured their friendship, a drunk Oowada was the last type of Oowada he wanted to see.

He marched back inside the house, frown already in place. The words were right at his throat, waiting for the right moment to be set free.

When Oowada spotted him, straightened up in his seat and stretched his arms to the side, eyes pleading. The words romped to a stop in him and his thoughts stilled. He opened his mouth to try to regain those words, but nothing but air came out. Flustered, he walked towards the gang leader and straight into his arms.

Oowada’s arms snaked around his waist again and buried his face on Ishimaru’s stomach. His grip was tight and needy as he released a shaky breath. Swirls of odd sensations erupted in Ishimaru’s stomach and he felt heat crawling up to his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. Now this was new.

He carded his fingers in Oowada’s hair, currently let loose from its usual pompadour. Strands fell down the sides of his head. Ishimaru tucked them behind his ear.

“I still think you should cut your hair,” Ishimaru murmured. “It’s really long now.”

Oowada replied only by burying his face further into the prefect’s stomach. Ishimaru let him.

“Kyoudai,” he whispered, pressing his fingers on Oowada’s scalp. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please, _please_ don’t.”

Oowada shook his head, face still hidden from Ishimaru’s view. “Need to tell you somethin’.”

“Yes. What is it?” He asked in a gentle tone.

“I did something bad. Something very _very_ bad and I know you won’t forgive me for it.”

“That’s not true.” His other hand, the one that was not stroking Oowada’s hair, went to cup his cheek. “I’ll forgive you for anything.”

Cupping Oowada’s jaw, he brought up his face so that they could see eye to eye. He wished the circumstances had been different. He wished Oowada’s breath didn’t reek of alcohol and his purple eyes weren’t hazy. But the look that he had on was enough for Ishimaru to hold down his spites. He leant down and pressed his lips to Oowada’s forehead. 

“Kiyotaka…” He said in a whisper.

“I’m here,” the hall monitor replied. “I’d feel better if you went to sleep now. Whatever you want to say can wait until the morning. That’s okay, right?”

Oowada shook his head. “If I sleep, then you’ll leave.” He leant into Ishimaru’s touch. “Don’t leave. I need you _here._ ”

Ishimaru flushed, averting his gaze from the gang leader. “Uhh, see? Y-you aren’t even talking straight, kyoudai! You should sleep. Eh… _Hehe_ …”

He extricated himself from Oowada’s tight grip and started pacing.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Oowada asked him.

“This! You! I mean, first you come home battered and bruise from a fight and now I see you in a drunken stupor!” Ishimaru ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “You are so unbelievably reckless! _Why_ must you keep doing this to yourself?”

“Just wanted to forget, I guess.”

“Forget _what?_ ” Ishimaru hissed.

“Everything,” Oowada replied in a low voice. “‘Sides. I needed to tell ya somethin’ and the only way I can get the guts to say it is if I wasn’t sober as fuck.”

“So you turn to _drinking_ of all things?” Ishimaru crossed his arms on his chest and stood stock still. “I thought you were better than this, Mondo.”

Oowada let out a furious growl and stood on his feet. “ _God_ , just this once will you fucking _shut up_? I’m trying to settle this properly and I can’t do it with you yappin’ and naggin’ at my ear all the god damn time!”

Ishimaru cringed at the drastic change in tone, but did not falter. He decided to take the calm approach. “And what part of getting yourself into a drunken state constitutes ‘settling this properly’? This is not the way to do things! There are _always_ other alternatives.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you know about getting drunk or stoned as fuck? Bet ‘ya don’t even know what type of booze you were cleanin’ up just moments ago!”

Oowada was standing right in front of him now, staring him straight in the eye. Ishimaru did his best not to blow up in the same way that Oowada did. “I hardly think that matters,” he replied calmly. “Because unlike you, I know how to settle things like an adult. And there are other ways to unleash your problems without turning to alcohol. Please believe me, as I know this from experience.”

“ _Boo-fuckin-hoo!_ Cry me a river, Hall Monitor.” Ishimaru flinched at the way he spat the name. He’d stopped using that when they became friends. Does this mean that this was the end?

The thought of losing Oowada as a friend terrified him. He had hoped too much. Their relationship was bound to end in failure eventually, as with his relations with everyone else.

His eyes landed on the coffee table. Perched on the corner was the same battered copy of _Fahrenheit 451_ that he saw when he first went inside Oowada’s room. He stared at the flames on the cover, devouring nearly half of the entire page, licking at the printed words. Flames that turned everything to ash while people watched them burn. 

He looked back at Oowada who was still glaring at him with great intensity. And in his eyes he saw his whole world begin to crumble to ashes.

He wanted to cry, but he was too exhausted to do even just that. He turned back, circled the coffee table, and took the book in his hands.

He flipped over a few pages and skimmed over the words, though it was too dim to be able to make them out clearly. But it calmed him down and that was what mattered.

Oowada’s hand shot out of nowhere and took the book from his grasp. It flew from his hands and tumbled to the ground.

“Don’t touch that. Don’t you _ever_ touch that!” Mondo yelled, seething. “That belongs to my brother!”

Ishimaru took a step back, trying to create some distance between the two of them. His insides were crumbling and folding over one another, it was a miracle he still managed to keep standing.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I won’t touch it again, I promise.”

“My brother… Daiya… Aniki…” Oowada sank down on his knees, his hands coming up to grab at his hair. “Oh god. I did something bad. I did something very _very_ bad.”

“Kyoudai… M-Mondo, please let me help. Just tell me what the problem is.” Ishimaru kneeled down in front of him. “I’m still here, okay?”

And Oowada did something that Ishimaru never thought he’d see him do.

He started crying.

Sobs wracked down his frame, sharply breaking through the level of quietness they had been keeping for the entire duration of their talk. His hands pulled and pulled at his hair, making his face contort in pain. Ishimaru gasped, wanting him to stop but still afraid to touch him in fear of angering him even more.

“Kiyotaka, I’m an awful person. The most horrible person in this entire god damn planet.”

“That’s not true! Stop saying such things!” Ishimaru replied and found that he meant it. The Oowada in front of him now may be miles away from the Oowada he’s known, but he’s seen enough about him to be certain that Oowada was one of the best people he knew.

“I killed someone.” Oowada broke off with a hiccup. “I killed him, alright? I killed Aniki!”

Ishimaru can see the flames clouding his vision quite clearly now, bringing everything he knew down under the hot mess of rubble and dirt and ash. The broken Oowada was tumbling down with it. His mind blanked as he searched for the proper way to respond to such a confession.

He shook his head. 

Kiyotaka Ishimaru did not believe in things such as luck. He did not believe in religion or destiny. He believed that hard work will always have its rewards, though not in the way that one would believe in karma. He’d long since stopped believing in useless, fleeting emotions such as happiness and bliss. He didn’t believe in living for the moment, but that one should live for the day ahead. He’d given up on believing that he’d ever see his father again. He’d done that a long time ago.

He didn’t believe in a lot of things, but if there was one thing he believed the most in, it was _him._

Mondo Oowada would _never_ kill someone. Never. That he knew and believed down to the very fiber of his being. He thought of the phrase again, let his mind envelope it like a little mantra, let his heart reach out to that which he knew very well to be true. It staggered him, the amount of faith he had on this delinquent. And the force it brought was enough to bring him to tears too.

“You’re not a murderer,” he told Oowada, brushing away the tears rolling down his own cheeks. “You would never.”

“I did.”

“You’re lying!”

“I did, alright? He died before my very eyes so don’t you fuckin’ tell me what I did and did not see!” His fists were clenched, rage pouring through him once again. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t get to change the fact that I. Killed. Him.”

The biker’s hands came up to his face. He groaned as if he were in actual physical pain. “I live with that burden every day, Kiyotaka. _Every. Single. Day._ Can you do that? Huh? Can you?”

Ishimaru shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Then what the fuck do you know? You don’t know anything about me!”

“Mondo, please. Is there anyway we can just talk about this some other time? When you’re not drunk?”

“Stop it! Stop telling me what to do!” He let out several loud groans and shook his head from side to side. “Do you _ever_ stop talking? I’m already confused as hell here! I don’t need you to keep reminding me that I literally have _no_ sense of direction in life. Either I lost it or I have none at all.”

“Mondo, I…” He placed a hand on the biker’s shoulder, only for it to be swatted away immediately.

Their eyes locked. What he saw in those normally gentle purple eyes terrified him. Rage. Danger. Confusion. So many fleeting emotions in the span of only a few seconds before Oowada’s fist came up to block his view.

He was startled by the sudden jolt of pain on his cheekbone, just under his eye. He clutched at the spot, stunned.

He had stopped crying.

For the next few moments, it seemed that even Oowada had been petrified by the act. His fingers flexed and curled as he stared at Ishimaru blankly.

“Get out of here.”

“No.” Ishimaru stood up on his feet. “I’m not leaving you here until you tell me what exactly is going on.”

Oowada stood up too. “You’re a stubborn little prick, aren’t you? I already punched ya to knock some sense into ya and you’re still here.”

The prefect cringed. “You just had a little too much to drink. I understand, kyoudai. If you would just let me help you…”

“Can’t you get a fucking hint? How stupid are ya?” He shoved Ishimaru, causing him to stumble a few steps back. “I don’t need your help! What I need is Aniki to be alive, damn it!”

Ishimaru directed his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I was only filling in for your older brother and I can’t meet up to those standards. I am truly sorry. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

“Do whatever you want.” Oowada paced to the front door, grabbing his long coat from the floor. “I’m going out.”

“M-Mondo?”

The front door slammed shut, and Ishimaru was left alone in the lonely house.

The sound of a motorcycle revving up and speeding away could be heard in the distance. Ishimaru cursed himself as he cried freely.

The flames on the cover of _Fahrenheit 451_ seemed to be mocking him from their position on the ground.

 

Naegi’s head was pounding. He groaned and lifted it up from the floor.

“Naegi!” he heard a whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Errrmm… I am now…” There was a throbbing pain at the back of his head. He brought his hand up to it as if scrubbing it would magically make it go away.

Everything came back to him. He was still in the crazy woman’s office. Kirigiri was tied to a chair.

He gasped. _Kirigiri was tied to a chair!_

He leapt up on his feet and over to her. Ropes went around her torso and onto the back of the chair. Her ankles were also bound together.

Naegi tried to get the ropes off her, but the knots were too complicated and it was too dark to figure out completely how to untie them. He fiddled with the ropes hopelessly, hoping that some idea would come to him out of thin air.

“Get your hand in my skirt, Naegi.”

He froze, wondering if maybe he’d heard her wrong. “Uhhh… Sorry, _what_?”

“I said, get your hand in my skirt!” She snapped. 

“Uhh…” His hands shook as he struggled with his words. “There’s no way I’d do that!”

“Now’s not the time for chivalry, Naegi! Hand in my skirt. _Now._ ”

That tone was enough to make him obey. He knelt down beside her chair and, flushing from the tips of his ears all the way to his neck, he placed his hand between Kirigiri’s legs and felt around her smooth thigh.

“Wh-what am I supposed to be looking for?”

“The other one, not that one.” Naegi moved his hand to her other thigh and felt something cool and leathery. 

“What _is_ this?” he asked.

“Almost there. Move a little bit to the left.”

He followed suit and felt something metallic. “This one?” He gripped it in his fingers and pulled up and out. His jaw dropped when he saw that he had in his hands a sleek, black knife.

“Use it to cut the ropes.”

“Do you _always_ carry a knife under your skirt?” He asked dumbly. This girl was even crazier than he once thought.

“Maybe…”

A few minutes later, Kirigiri was totally free from the restraints. He looked around the room, wondering where Mrs. Matsui had gone.

“She went out after she finished tying me up,” she answered his unspoken question. “We should leave now, before she comes back.”

He agreed. It was still dark in the room as he trailed behind Kirigiri and walked toward the window they came in through. She leapt on top of the desk and used the boost to smoothly climb out the window and out of the house, hopefully to never return.

Naegi set one foot on the desk, intending to follow suit, when the sound of a woman’s roaring cackle made him freeze.

“Ahh, the final showdown!” He heard Mrs. Matsui’s voice. “This is always the best part! The look of despair on your faces is absolutely _delicious_.”

He heard Kirigiri’s gasp and leaned out the window as discreetly as he could.

The woman had her arms around Kirigiri’s body, not allowing her to move an inch. Lucky for Naegi, though, her back was turned to him so she didn’t spot him. (It was _too_ convenient under usual circumstances, but let us not forget that Makoto Naegi is the Super High School Level Luckster after all.)

He jumped back in the room and searched frantically for something. Anything that he could use as a weapon.

He suddenly remembered that Kirigiri’s knife was still in his hand.

The metal was undeniably cold and menacing, glinting under the sliver of moonlight. It was the perfect weapon and he had the perfect opportunity to unleash it. But he wasn’t used to this. Can he do it? Can he really brandish a deadly weapon on an old woman?

Kirigiri yelped. It seemed that she was trying to restrain her shouts, but sudden bursts of attacks kept her from remaining her silence.

Naegi leapt down from the desk and circled the room with brisk steps. _For Kirigiri_ , he thought. _I have to save Kirigiri._

The knife fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground. He grabbed immediately at a flower vase and ran back out the window like his life depended on it—nay, _because_ his life depended on it.

Without any second thoughts, he held the vase above his head, leapt through the air, and smashed it right on Mrs. Matsui’s head.

Her body fell to the ground with a few jolts and convulsions, before finally going limp.

He stared at her, adrenaline wearing off of his body now. Dread started to creep in. Kirigiri took hold of his hand. Shocked, he turned to her.

“She’s not dead,” she told him. “Just unconscious. I’ll report this to the station and make sure she won’t cause any more trouble.”

She tugged on his hand and they walked back to the road. Neither of them felt like letting go after what they had just gone through. It was good to feel that he was still grounded to the earth by a gentle touch somehow.

They stopped in front of Naegi’s house and that’s when he reluctantly let go of her hand.

“I’ll see you in school, then,” he said.

“Naegi, wait.”

He stopped and turned back to her. “Is there something wrong?”

“I’m sorry. For tonight. For everything. For getting you into this whole mess.”

“No! It’s nothing at all, Kirigiri. I mean, you couldn’t have known such a thing would happen, right?”

“That’s the thing,” she sighed and fidgeted with her sleeves. He noticed that she did that when she was nervous about something. “I _did_ know that would happen. You don’t think I knew from the moment I saw her how dangerous she was?”

“Then why…?”

“Because I wanted to scare you,” she answered matter-of-factly. “So I can get rid of you.”

“Wow, Kirigiri, if you hate me that much, you could’ve just said so…”

“I don’t hate you, Naegi. Quite the contrary, I think I’ve taken a fascination to you.” 

His brows shot up in confusion. “I… I don’t get it.”

“I thought taking you with me will push you away, but I thought wrong.” She stepped closer to him, penetrating his personal space. “What will it take, huh? What will it take for you to stay away from me?”

From this distance, he could see every single fleck in her lavender eyes, the hint of freckles scattered across her cheekbones, the defined curve of her lips. She looked at him like she was searching him, and that pondering look in her eyes always left him confused and slightly out of focus.

However, this time he knew exactly what to answer her.

“Nothing,” he gulped, feeling his heart beat faster, and somehow he knew he meant it. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Very well.” She stepped back. “What have you learned from tonight’s investigation?”

“Nothing, actually. I’m still pretty confused.” He replied honestly. He remembered the thing he’d picked up from the office and he fished inside his pocket for the ring. “I did get this, though. I thought maybe it’s something important.”

He took it out, letting it reflect the moon’s glow. Kirigiri let out a soft gasp, immediately enclosing her fingers around it.

“Naegi… How?”

“I found it on the desk. I recognized it from one of the drawings in your journal, so I picked it up.”

She nodded and tucked it inside her blazer. “Thank you, I guess.”

They were silent for a while before a smile broke out of Naegi’s face.

“So I guess since I brought you some important piece of evidence, you absolutely _cannot_ be without me when you investigate.”

Kirigiri looked stunned for a moment. It was too dark to tell, but it seemed to him that she was blushing again. He decided that was his new favorite thing in the world. The sight of Kirigiri blushing.

“A-alright. Since you have proven yourself indispensable as an investigative partner, then I will have to bring you along in my future cases. You know, just in case I miss out on any more important evidence like this one.” She brought up a hand to cover her mouth, but he could tell from the way her cheekbones protruded that she was smiling. And she was smiling _big._

“H-hey, I’m glad you’re safe.” He told her truthfully.

“Likewise, Naegi.”

“Good night.”

“Good night."

 

Mondo Oowada’s chair was vacant the following morning. Ishimaru stared at it helplessly. After Mondo left on his motorcycle, he waited for an hour more before heading home. He didn’t get anymore sleep, already wrought with nerves just thinking about what sort of shenanigans Oowada had gotten himself into this time.

He slammed his head down on the desk to muffle his groan. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t angered Oowada, then he probably would be in that chair. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?

He felt a tap on the shoulder and his head went up, hoping to see the face of his kyoudai.

Instead, it was Chihiro Fujisaki, wearing an expression much like the one he had.

“Ishimaru,” her voice shook as she spoke. “I’m sorry to intrude, but do you happen to know where Mon-chan is?”

He shook his head.

“Oh. I just thought you’d like to know, ahh…”

“Know what? Is something wrong?”

Fujisaki trembled, looking even more feeble than how she usually did. “I got a phone call from the hospital today. This morning, he… He got into a biking accident. I’m so sorry, Ishimaru. I just wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go with me after school to visit him.”

“I’ll go.” 

“Alright. Are you okay? You seem a bit… tense.”

“I’m fine!”

Fujisaki leaned back, surprised by the tone the prefect had taken. “Ishimaru…”

He turned to her, eyes flaming. “Leave me alone!”

The whole class was staring at him now, wondering what on earth had caused their public morals advocate to say something so harsh to a small girl.

He stared back, aligning his posture. Though his eyes had taken over a new form. “The fuck are you all lookin’ at?”

Deadly silence took over the entire room.

Ishimaru’s hair was turning white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr, in case any of you care
> 
> leanncar.tumblr.com


	15. Far and Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a strange day for all the students at Hope's Peak, what with some loud white-haired stranger roaming the halls all of a sudden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the new chapter. I look forward to seeing your reactions.

“CHIHIRO, HIDE ME!!!” Naegi yelled as he ran down the hallway, passing through several bewildered students gaping at him. He paid them no mind.

Fujisaki, who had been in a hearty conversation with Asahina, looked up to see the boy nearly slamming into her. Naegi skidded to a stop.

She gasped. “Makoto, what’s the matter?”

Naegi put his hand on his knees and breathed heavily, panting in between his words. “It’s… It’s him! He’s gone _mad!_ ”

Asahina shot him a perplexed gaze. “What on earth are you talking about?!”

“MAKOTO NAEGI, YOU GET HERE THIS INSTANT!” A loud booming voice rang out from the end of the hall. Naegi yelped, grasping the two girls’ shoulders and stepping forward so he could hide behind them.

“What the hell…” Asahina exclaimed, turning to Fujisaki and hoping she had an answer, but the programmer only shrugged.

A blur of black, white, and red started towards them, approaching them fast. Naegi squeaked from his crouching position.

“YOU THERE!” Kiyotaka Ishimaru spoke up, striding towards them with his long legs and pointing an accusing finger in the two girls’ direction. They gasped. Ishimaru didn’t even look like himself. His eyes held rage and his posture was more aggressive than usual. And was it just them or has his hair turned snow white all of a sudden? “DID YOU HAPPEN TO SEE NAEGI PASS BY?”

The way he said that made it look like he wanted to kill the guy.

The luckster trembled in his hiding position, knowing he’d be found soon enough. _Please, god, let me live!_ He thought. _I just escaped one crazy killer, I don’t want to go through another again!_

Fujisaki and Asahina shook their heads quickly, but the hall monitor’s eyes were already trailing down the space between the two. “EXCUSE ME, LADIES.” He reached behind them and got a firm grasp on Naegi’s shirt collar. He lifted him up effortlessly over his head. Naegi’s feet weren’t even touching the floor.

He gulped. “Uh, hi, Ishimaru!” He let out a nervous laugh.

Ishimaru was not amused.

“DETENTION, MAKOTO NAEGI! TWO WEEKS DETENTION!” 

“What? _Two weeks?_ That’s crazy!”

The hall monitor released his hold. Naegi dropped on his knees before standing up immediately. Fujisaki and Asahina looked at the scene, mouths agape. Ishimaru stared back at the three of them, and they all experienced shivers at the same time.

“RULES, NAEGI-KUN! FOLLOW THE RULES! IF I SEE THAT SHIRT OF YOURS UNTUCKED AGAIN, I’LL MAKE IT _ONE MONTH_ DETENTION!”

“Hey, wait up! That’s totally unfair!” Asahina exclaimed, holding an arm out in front of Naegi in an effort to shield him from the seething hall monitor. “Seriously, what has gotten into you? You’ve gone from being Hall Monitor to _Hell_ Monitor!”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Ishimaru replied in the same loud tone, making all heads turn to him. “THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME. I AM FINE!”

Fujisaki put a hand on his shoulder. “Ishimaru… If this is about—”

“I SAID THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, FUJISAKI-KUN. EVERYTHING IS FINE!” He laughed, but it sounded wrong. And creepy. His expression when looking at Fujisaki was kind, but when he turned to Naegi, he turned vicious again.

Naegi took a step back. If he was given a choice between facing Ishimaru and Mrs. Matsui? Yeah, he’d take the homicidal despair fetishist please.

Ishimaru took out a pink slip from his pocket and very gracefully slapped it onto Naegi’s forehead.“I WILL SEE YOU IN DETENTION LATER, FOOLISH OUTLAW.” He turned around and walked away, leaving the three to gawk after him.

A big guy wearing a leather jacket pushed past Ishimaru’s shoulder as he walked. Naegi gasped. _Takashi._ He’d only seen the guy messing with the hall monitor once, and it was something he hoped never to see again.

Ishimaru froze and turned to the offender. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING, WILL ‘YA?”

Even from his position across the hall, Naegi could see clearly how the jock’s jaw hardened the moment Ishimaru opened his mouth.

“Fuck off, loser! I’ll walk wherever I want!” Takashi hissed.

“CUSSING WILL NOT BE TOLERATED WITHIN THE SCHOOL ENVIRONMENT. DETENTION FOR YOU, MISTER.” Ishimaru slammed a pink slip on _his_ head. _Oh boy,_ Naegi thought. _He’s really done it now._ Watching the scene unfold, he wondered if maybe this will be the last time he’ll see Ishimaru on two feet. He wished right then and there that his own luck was transferrable, as it seemed like Ishimaru really needed it at the moment.

Ishimaru started walking away.

Takashi glowered at him, taking the paper in his hand, he crumpled it in a ball and threw it at the hall monitor’s direction.

In one swift move, Ishimaru turned around and caught it in his hand smoothly. He closed his eyes and a throbbing vein appeared in his forehead. Takashi _took a step back._

“Ack! What the—”

“YOU WILL ACCEPT THIS DETENTION SLIP WITH DIGNITY OR I WILL SHOVE IT UP YOUR TAILPIPE!” The prefect covered the ball with his fingers, curling them up into a fist and sent it flying towards Takashi’s face. The bigger man flinched, but the fist paused mere millimeters before making contact.

The paper fell to the floor with a deafening thud in the silence of the hall.

Takashi was petrified as Ishimaru fixed him under his flaming red stare. Slowly, he picked up the piece of paper and took three steps back.

“You’re insane! Absolutely insane!” He exclaimed and turned around to run in the direction opposite the hall monitor.

Everyone’s eyes were on Ishimaru now. For a few more seconds, he stood calmly, expression serene, and for a moment Naegi thought he could see a sliver of Ishimaru—the real Ishimaru—in there, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Ishimaru’s eyes closed and his lips curled up into a sneer.

“Did that really just happen?” Asahina spoke, disdain written all over her face. Naegi nodded dumbly.

“Oh, Ishimaru…” Fujisaki whispered, voice breaking. “This is terrible! We have to do something about this!”

The luckster turned to her, surprised. “Seriously? Are you _trying_ to get me killed?! _You_ talk to him! He likes you the best!”

Fujisaki pouted. “I guess you’re right.” She released a sigh. For some reason, she was the only one in the hall who wasn’t looking at Ishimaru with a fearful expression. Instead, she just looked sad. “God, I just hope it’s not yet too late to fix this.”

 

 

Ishimaru sat on a chair outside the headmaster’s office, grumbling. He didn’t know why he was called here, and frankly he was really annoyed. There were a lot of things he should be doing instead. So many rule breakers roaming the halls that needed to be punished! In his mind he could see clearly all the untucked shirts and untied shoelaces. Walking hazards, they were! Something must be done!

His nails dug painfully in his palms. He closed his eyes and breathed in. Order must prevail over chaos. The world is too messy and grimy, tainted with the horrors of those in the past and of what will become. Realizing that something must be done, that it was his responsibility to lead all these people out of their misery, that would be the first step to true progress.

He didn’t understand when he’d started feeling this way. It was as if an entirely different person took over him. The responsibility that he held with stride suddenly felt heavy on his shoulders and he had to work ten times as hard just to keep up.

“Ishimaru,” a tall blonde-haired woman stepped into his field of view and fixed him with a stern stare. No school staff has ever looked at him like that before. “The headmaster would like to see you now.”

Stepping inside Headmaster Kirigiri’s office was always a surreal experience for him. It was far too big for a simple workstation. It could even pass as an apartment already. Although every other room in Hope’s Peak Academy was laden with opulence, it was always the headmaster’s office that made him realize the most the things that he could never afford in a million years. It always made him feel smaller and a lot more pliant. Everything about this room intimidated him to the core.

“You wanted to see me, headmaster?” That was the greeting he made every time he’s been called to the headmaster’s office. It was meant to be a formality, of course, but after saying it so many times it seemed to Ishimaru like just another mechanical garble that his mouth made without even needing to think.

“Yes. Take a seat, Ishimaru.” That was always the headmaster’s reply. Though he’s probably had to say it to a ton more people, having to meet with faculty and students and businessmen all the time. It was probably robotic for him to say that already. _Have a seat. To what do I owe the pleasure? We need to talk more about the assets and benefits to this project. Shall I offer you a cup of tea?_

Ishimaru wondered if he will turn into a robot someday, too.

“How are you feeling?” Asked the headmaster when Ishimaru had taken his seat. Well, that question was something out of the routine. 

“I don’t understand, sir. How am I supposed to be feeling?”

Headmaster Kirigiri leaned back in his seat, folding his fingers under his chin, elbows perched on the armrests. He was so much like his daughter in so many ways, and yet so different from her at the same time.

Ishimaru had never even seen them talk, now that he thought of it.

“Well, it’s just that I’ve been hearing some things…” said the headmaster in a neutral tone. “… _Complaints,_ mostly about how you’ve been addressing your hall monitor duties lately.”

“I can assure you, headmaster, that my approach to my duties is entirely justified.”

The headmaster’s eyes widened. “Oh, um… You see,” he tried to remain a kind tone, “that’s not how you’ve done things in the past, Ishimaru. We chose you to enter this school because we liked the way you were running things before. This change is so sudden! I think it’s safe to say it took the whole school by surprise.”

“This is the ruling that Hope’s Peak needs, sir. An iron fist, an organized and deeply structured hierarchy that will force its subjects to bow down to authority! It simply must be done!”

“We’re running a school, Ishimaru, not a gang.” The words felt like a sharp jab to his stomach. The hall monitor winced visibly.

He stood up, slamming his fists on the bewildered headmaster’s desk. “Who ever said that we _can’t_ run school like how one runs a gang? Huh? _IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT?”_

“No, there isn’t. Please, settle down. I’m not saying it’s wrong, it’s just out of place, that’s all.”

“Mondo isn’t out of place! He belongs _here._ In this school! Instead of being konked out in some goddamn hospital bed somewhere because he was too goddamn stupid to cut his own hair!”

Ishimaru breathed heavily, head down. Headmaster Kirigiri looked on with concern.

The hall monitor sat down once again. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Headmaster Kirigiri nodded. “I see. So it _is_ about Mondo Oowada after all.”

“What? Wait, no! No it’s not!” 

“He’ll be fine, Ishimaru. This has happened many times before.” A fond smile made its way on his face, as if remembering a distant memory. “You’d be surprised how many accidents that kid’s been in already. He always comes back within the week.”

“Mondo Oowada has nothing to do with this.”

“I’m sure there isn’t,” he replied, obviously lying. “He’ll be back soon enough. Until then, I am really sorry, but I see you unfit to continue your duties in this state.”

Ishimaru jolted in his seat and stood up hastily. “Sir! Surely you can’t mean… No! You can’t!”

This time, the headmaster’s face became stern, and Ishimaru shut up. “Yes. I _can._ I’ll be assigning hall monitor duties to someone else for the meantime. Hand over your arm band, please.”

For the next few seconds, Ishimaru could only stand there with his jaw dropped. The walls were caving in around him. The ground shifted and spun beneath his feet, swirling, spiralling down into a dark hole of black madness. His mind blanked out. His knees trembled and gave way. He sat down limply back on his chair.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’ll only be for a few days,” Headmaster Kirigiri assured him. “Everyone knows you’re still the most qualified prefect for the job.”

Ishimaru nodded dumbly, taking off his trademark red arm band that had become his constant companion and laying it on the desk with numb fingers.

 

 

“I won’t believe this. I simply _refuse_ to believe any of it ever happened!” Ishimaru exclaimed as he walked alongside Fujisaki on the walkway outside Hope’s Peak. They were on their way to the hospital, hoping to see a healthy and grinning Oowada. They also needed to talk about their long neglected play for English class anyway, and decided that this was as good a time as any.

“I’m so sorry,” Fujisaki replied. “But I’m sure it will only be for a few days. You’ll get to be hall monitor again soon.”

“No, it’s not that.” He said, shaking his head. When Fujisaki met up with him after classes, he looked absolutely downtrodden. Mostly though, she was just thankful that his hair was black again and that he wasn’t screaming bloody murder anymore. “It’s just… I can’t stand the idea of losing control like that. What on earth was I thinking? To be so far away from myself that the headmaster saw me _unfit_ to perform the duties I have a responsibility to do! It’s… It’s scary.

Fujisaki shot him a sympathetic look, running a hand through her light brown hair.

“I have been angry plenty of times,” Ishimaru continued, “but never like that. Anger to me was always a form of inducing order through chaos. But the rage that I felt earlier was far above me. It went over my head and controlled me just like that.”

“Ishimaru, I think it’s time I tell you something,” Fujisaki said once they reached the hospital’s front doors.

“What is it?” He asked after they’ve inquired at the desk for Oowada’s room number.

Fujisaki let out a deep sigh that she had been holding. “I’ll tell you when we get to Mondo’s room. You’ll probably want to sit down for this.”

 

 

Ishimaru and Fujisaki entered Oowada’s room with grave faces. The gang leader was unconscious. He had various cuts on his face and a bandage wrapped around his torso. For a moment, Fujisaki feared that this might actually be even worse than his past biking accidents.

“Don’t look so down, you chums,” the attending nurse told them as she jotted down some notes on her clipboard. “Concussion, some bruised ribs, a nasty lookin’ wound in the chest. The bike fell on top of him, which was how he got the bruises, but he’s fine. Been drifting in and out of consciousness the whole day.”

Fujisaki let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Thank you,” she told her as the nurse exited the room.

She turned to the hall— _ex-hall monitor?_ —beside her. Ishimaru observed Oowada as a mother would gawk at her son’s coffin. There was no doubt that he was overreacting, but Fujisaki knew there was a reason why Ishimaru felt so strongly about anything that happens to Oowada. 

“This is my fault,” said Ishimaru, already on the verge of tears. “I was with him that night, but we had a fight. I could have stopped this from happening.”

“Ishimaru, don’t talk like that! We both already know Mon-chan’s stupid enough to get himself in an accident without _anyone’s_ help,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ishimaru let out a soft chuckle. “That is true. Still, I shouldn’t have aggravated him. What if that had been our last conversation? I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

“Ishimaru?”

“Yes, Fujisaki?”

“Do you already know the story of how Mondo and I became friends?”

 

 

_Rain pattered down from the heavens, creating a soft rumbling noise as it dropped on the roof, sending wet trails down foggy glass windows, enveloping everything in its musky scent._

_Thirteen-year-old Chihiro Fujisaki released a sigh together with a whispered prayer that his brand new shoes don’t get ruined. They were a birthday gift, after all._

_The day started out so well, how could it have turned to this? He remembered the beams of happy sunlight that greeted him when he opened his eyes, but now the clouds were the darkest he’d ever seen. The weather has always had a way of affecting his mood. He wished to see the sunlight again._

_He exited the school doors and hoped that no one would pay attention to him. The downpour of rain made most students reluctant to hang around outside anyway. Everyone just wanted to go home._

_Something made in contact with his back, just below the shoulder blade, knocking him forward and onto his knees. His umbrella clattered out of his grasp. There was water. Water falling from the sky, soaking his shirt and gym shorts. Water underneath him, covering his socks and legs with a layer of grime and mud. Behind him, he heard someone let out a dark chuckle._

_“You were in the way, nerd!” said the guy. Fujisaki was sure he knew him and could place a name to him if he tried, but there had been so many of him that he didn’t really bother to remember all their names and faces anymore. They were all the same to him. The same set of cruel faces, using the same set of degrading jokes. It’s as if they were drawing it out from one book._

_Generic clones, they were. They didn’t matter._

_The guy that had pushed him down took his backpack and opened the zipper. Fujisaki leapt to his feet, gasping. “No! Give that back!” He reached for it, but the guy held it beyond his reach. Cursing his height—or lack thereof—he jumped on his feet in an attempt to retrieve the bag._

_The guy took out its contents one by one. “Ugh. All nerd stuff.” He took out a couple of books and threw them to the ground, landing in a puddle somewhere. “Oh, hey, what’s this?” He had in his hands Fujisaki’s silver laptop._

_Fujisaki gasped. No. There was something in there. Something important. A program he’d been working on that could change his life. That could change everyone’s lives. If this jerk were to somehow damage it, everything will be over._

_“No! Give that back!” Fujisaki panted, panicking now._

_“No, I don’t think so.” The guy sneered. Fujisaki was about to cry. He hoped that the rain would disguise his tears. Real men don’t cry. Never ever ever ever. So suck it down, Chihiro! “What, you gonna cry now? Big man comes and takes your stuff and you cry already? You wanna go back home now and play with your little dolls?”_

_“I’m not a girl!” Fujisaki yelled, gritting his teeth. “Please. I worked so many long nights on that. Give it back, please.”_

_“And begging, too!” He sneered. “Pathetic.”_

_Fujisaki had no idea what to do. He was sad and wet and dirty and in a few minutes, one of his life’s greatest works will be crushed by some beefy idiot._

_Was this it, then? Was this the end?_

_He had so many dreams and so much stuff he wanted to do. He wanted to be recognized, to be appreciated for his talent instead of insulted for it. He could’ve done so much more._

_But how could he do that now, when he was already losing the will to live?_

_The sound of a motorcycle engine cut through the pattering noise of the rain. Fujisaki flinched at the loud noise piercing his eardrums. He and the guy turned their heads towards the source._

_A black motorcycle stopped a few feet from the pair, and from it stepped down a tall man wearing a long coat. He had the most ridiculous hair that Fujisaki had ever seen, formed up into a pompadour even though it was wet from the rain so that it hung semi-awkwardly along his nose bridge._

_“Something the matter here, guys?” His tone was kind, but his face was menacing. The guy that attacked him let go of Fujisaki’s bag immediately._

 

 

“Was that him?” Ishimaru asked, cutting into Fujisaki’s story. He remembered the day that he too was saved from a bully for the first time and smiled fondly. “Was that Mondo who came to save you?” 

Fujisaki smiled back, all teeth. “Actually, it was his brother, Daiya.”


	16. All the Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chihiro's story continues. Kirigiri and Naegi discover more things because that's how cool they are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter of the story so far. Hope you like. Leave comments and stuff cause they make the author happy. And you do not want a cranky writer working on this fic that's just trash

“ _Daiya?_ You met Mondo’s older brother?” Ishimaru took a seat on the floor so that Fujisaki could occupy the only available chair in the room. He sat across from her as he leaned on the side of Mondo’s bed for support. 

She nodded. “He saved me that day in more ways than one. The program I’d been working on, that had been one of the earliest stages of _Alter Ego_ , which eventually became the reason why I was chosen to attend Hope’s Peak.” She smiled, though her eyes looked sad. Ishimaru understood. She missed him, Daiya. It was apparent that the late gang leader was special to her, too. If it weren’t for him, Ishimaru never would have met Fujisaki at all. He let that thought sink in for a while.

“So you, Mondo, and his brother were all friends? Is that why you two know each other?”

“Not exactly.” Her eyes landed on Oowada’s sleeping form. She seemed hesitant over what she had to say. “Mondo, he’s… He really loves Daiya, and for his whole life it’s always been just the two of them. He—ahh, he didn’t take too kindly to people who get in between him and Daiya.”

“Oh?” Ishimaru asked, puzzled. “How so?”

“Umm…” Fujisaki bit her lip. After a few seconds, she released a deep sigh. “What I’m about to tell you is something that I shouldn’t be telling you.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because you should know. I’ve been telling Mondo to tell you already, but so far he hasn’t. And I’m really afraid he’ll only worsen the longer you don’t know about this. So I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“But why? What’s this got to do with _me_?”

Fujisaki rested her chin on her hand, giving the prefect a lopsided smile. “Ishimaru,” she said, a slightly teasing drawl apparent in her tone. “Would you believe me if I told you that Mondo has been refining himself _just_ for you?”

 

 

“Kirigiri, I don’t understand. Where exactly are we going?” Naegi asked as he and the young detective strode down the pavement, her hand tugging on his sleeve. He struggled to keep up with her brisk walk. She came up to him after class and all of a sudden pulled him out of the building, seeming like she was in a big hurry.

“My house,” she replied curtly. “There are more things about the case that you should know.”

They stopped walking a few minutes later. Naegi stared at the two-storey home across the road. She was still tugging on his sleeve as she walked to the front door.

“We’re not going trespassing again, are we?”

“No, this is my house.”

“What? But this isn’t the house that we went to when I offered to take you home.” Naegi remembered the dreary looking place that Kirigiri had called her ‘home’.

She paused, letting go of Naegi’s jacket, and stared him down. “Did you actually think I would take you to my house when I barely knew you?”

“You know where _my_ house is! You’ve been in my room!”

She crossed her arms and maintained her steel gaze. “It’s different with me, alright?”

“Kirigiri,” he made to grab her hand, but stopped himself, letting his own hand hover a few inches over her arm. His face turned serious. “Really. Why? You can tell me.”

She wavered a bit and averted her gaze to her shoes briefly before coming back up to Naegi’s face. “Because I didn’t trust you back then.”

Kirigiri turned around and strode over to the side of the house, fully expecting Naegi to follow her. Of course he did. 

“Wait, aren’t we going through the front door?” He asked, quite afraid that this still wasn’t Kirigiri’s house after all.

She shook her head, back still turned to him. “We’re not going in there. I’m taking you to my office out back.”

Office, of course. He tried to smile, if only to relax himself. It’s not like he hoped she would take him to her room or anything.

A small shed-like structure can be seen from a few feet away. It was painted nicely, but it looked rather old. Kirigiri took out her key and opened the door, motioning for him to step in.

What would a detective’s office look like? No, scratch that. What would _Kirigiri’s_ office look like? He tried to imagine gray walls under dull lighting, like in those crime shows he used to watch. A hard ground with no carpeting, because it was best for intimidating people that they want to investigate. Maps tacked on the walls, computer on a desk, probably an overhead light that swung from side to side when the right moment called for it.

Naegi entered the room and took everything in. All he had expected to see went down the drain. His jaw dropped. His mind went blank.

“Surprised?” He heard her say.

“Uh…”

“Got anything you want to ask?”

“Kirigiri. It’s not that I doubt your skill or anything—trust me, you’re brilliant! But uh… Can you please explain to me why your office is full of rocks?”

 

 

Oowada’s fingers twitched in his sleep, causing two pairs of eyes to land on him quickly.

He breathed deeply. Nothing. Still asleep.

Fujisaki heaved a sigh of relief. “It’s best that he’s asleep for now. He won’t want to hear me tell you this.”

Ishimaru nodded in reply. Whatever it was that Fujisaki was planning to say, it did seem that Oowada would not be happy about the direction the conversation was taking. “Now, do continue. What exactly happened between you and Mondo?”

 

 

_“Y-you’re him!” The bully that attacked Fujisaki stuttered. “You’re that gang leader dude!”_

_The biker smirked, obviously pleased at being recognized so easily. “Go pick on someone your own size, you coward.”_

_Fujisaki was trying to salvage what he could from his ruined pack. He sneaked a glance at the two men, trying not to draw attention to himself._

_“I wasn’t doing anything! Honestly! Please don’t beat me up!”_

_The gang leader stood up to his full height, towering over the guy and fixed him under a cold gaze. “Ah, fuck that. I’m tired and it’s raining. I’m just not in the mood to beat the shit outta anyone right now, as much as I want to of course.” Fujisaki wasn’t sure if the wink he sent in the programmer’s direction had been real or not. “Leave this kid alone and don’t ever show your face to me again. It hurts to look at ya.”_

_The bully nodded and ran away, fleeing from the scene._

_“So,” the gang leader remarked, turning to Fujisaki. “That was fun. What’s your name, kiddo?”_

_“A-are you gonna beat me up, too?”_

_“What? Do I look like some cruddy delinquent to ya?”_

_“Strictly speaking, yes.”_

_The biker let out a huge laugh. “You’re really smart there. Cute, too. Like a little bird. I’m keepin’ ya.”_

_“E-excuse me?!”_

_He slung an arm over Fujisaki’s shoulder, making the latter tense up. The stranger was so tall, he barely came up past his shoulders. “Let’s get you out of the rain, alright? Are ya hungry? I know this great diner somewhere. S’not that far from here, I think. You’re not afraid of riding motorcycles, are ya?”_

_Fujisaki had no idea what was going on, or even what this man was rambling about. But seeing as he did prevent the destruction of Fujisaki’s most prized work, he supposed he owed him a meal or two._

 

 

“Wow! Daiya-kun was exceptionally nice!” Ishimaru commented after Fujisaki paused from her story to take a sip from her water bottle. She nodded.

“He saw me and instantly thought of me as a friend. Until now, I still don’t know why. But he was always kind to me, no matter what I did. He’s kind to everyone, actually. Rude, but kind. It’s weird that he’s a gang leader because you get the sense that he’s a very refined, well-educated young man.” She shrugged. “Mondo’s kinda like that too. But he’s a bit rougher around the edges.”

Ishimaru nodded, agreeing. 

“The way they judge who to be friends with and who to despise, they have that in common,” she continued. “I’m telling you this because I think knowing more about Daiya will let you know more about Mondo too.”

“I see where you are getting at now. Please continue. The story is quite exciting.”

 

 

“The art of deduction was taught to me primarily by my grandfather, but it was my uncle who taught me the science of geology as a means of exercising it,” Kirigiri said in one breath as she paced around the room with a graceful air.

Naegi furrowed his brows. “What does geology have to do with solving murders?”

She smirked. “You’d be surprised.”

“But crime solving is all complicated methods and psychology and critical thinking! Geology is just… well, rocks.”

He gestured to the entire room in general, which had several work desks and paperwork. What was peculiar, however, was that were were rocks everywhere. Gray ones, black ones, pink ones. Stacked neatly inside boxes, used as paperweights, or simply just scattered all about the room. Kirigiri bent over to pick one up and handed it to him.

“What do you think of this rock?” She asked.

He took it in his hands and gave it a hard look. He really did want to impress her, to show her that he was a worthy investigative partner. But as he stared at what she’d given him, his mind blanked out. “Well… it’s dark gray-ish? And uhh… There’s some black in it? And… It’s hard?”

“Is that all that you can draw from it?”

“Yes. I mean, come on! It’s _just a rock!_ There’s like a billion of them everywhere!”

She shook her head slowly and crossed her arms. “I must say, I’m disappointed in you.” She took it back from him and held it under the light. “One glance and I know that it’s obviously an andesite rock. Igneous, which means it was formed from magma. The place where this came from had volcanoes in it. It’s fine-grained, though, cause it’s a bit hard to see the individual minerals in it, therefore it’s an extrusive igneous rock, meaning it came out as liquid magma and was formed _above_ the volcano instead of under it.”

“How—?”

She glanced at him quickly. “Faster cooling rates forces magma to form fine grains rather than coarse ones.” She placed the andesite back on a table and picked up one that was next to it. This one looked a bit like the first, only it had bigger black parts. “What do you think of this, Naegi?”

“It looks like cookies and cream ice cream.”

She laughed, but stopped herself quickly. Naegi wished she’d have continued it. “This is a diorite, the andesite’s intrusive counterpart. Has exact same compositions, only difference is that it was formed under the volcano and went out of it as a solid. Its cooling rate was slower, which gave it more time to form these huge crystals. I can’t tell for sure without expert tools, but the black ones are most probably amphibole.”

“What are all the other colors?”

“The dull grey parts are plagioclase, which can be found in a lot of rocks as it acts as an adhesive, especially in sedimentary rocks. The lighter grey ones are quartz, which is my personal favorite. If you hold it up under the sunlight, you’ll see it glitter. In fact, if you see any rock glittering under sunlight, it’s most probably quartz you’re looking at.”

“Well, I get it. You can identify minerals and that’s cool, but I still don’t see why this is related to crime-solving.”

She turned her back to him and walked over to another work desk. This one had only one item on it: a huge reddish rock. 

“Come over here, Naegi.” He followed and was surprised when she handed him a pickaxe. He wavered slightly at the weight, but managed to hold it up.

“Give it a good hard beating,” she told him. “I believe in you.” He could swear she was teasing him.

He took a firm grip on the handle, brought it up over his head, and slammed it hard on the rock. The top part exploded in his face, getting in his eyes, in his hair, and clouding the two students with dust. Naegi rubbed his eyes and cringed as the smell of gunpowder and rotten egg filled the room.

“That’s called a chert,” Kirigiri said calmly, not at all bothered by Naegi’s state. “It has a very distinct scent. Crack any rock and you’ll know a chert when you smell it.”

Naegi set the pickaxe down. Along its handle was a sticker that read: WARNING: ALWAYS WEAR PROTECTIVE GOGGLES WHEN USING.

“When you know rocks, you know the earth. And when you know the earth, you know everything.” She turned back again and rummaged through some drawers as she spoke. “From rocks you can tell the composition of the land surrounding it. You can find out its history, and what position it was in a billion years ago. As well you know the past you know the future. You can predict fault line movements based on fractures on the ground. Natural formations and stunning sights, all because of these things you call ‘rocks’.” She brought out a small bottle of clear liquid and turned to face him again. “The job of a detective is to see that which all the others discount as insignificant. And I take my job _very_ seriously, Naegi.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.”

“The reason why I took you here is because of that ring that you took from the victim’s house. There’s important information in it.” She took out the said item from her pocket. “A few things you should know about the Sagittarii Killer: One, they’re silent and merciful. They have never harmed their victims physically other than how the poison affects them. Two, they’re involved in the military somehow. I’m here to tell you that thanks to this, I have disproved both of those facts.”

“What do you mean? Surely the forensics group has already tested the ring. It doesn’t seem very professional for them to overlook something as important as that.”

“They have, and they concluded that the skull is made of plastic and that it is irrelevant to the case.”

“So? It’s like a serial killer’s signature, right?” He remembered watching a crime show where the serial killer left special cards on each of his victims. This one didn’t seem to be any different.

“You may call it that, yes,” she replied. “Each of the killer’s victims are left with this ring. Another peculiarity about the little boy was that he did _not_ have this ring. By now, we can safely assume that this was because his mother took it for some reason, and you found it later in her office.

“Have I ever told you about sedimentary rocks?” She picked up another rock, this one was a bit orange in color and had a rough and porous surface. “The thing about them is that they’re usually found near the sea. They’re not really one rock, but rather they are a bunch of little rocks that gathered together to form one hunk. Go on. Scrape it.”

He scraped a nail over it and was surprised when a big chunk came off under his thumb. 

“They look sturdy,” she continued, “but they are still, after all, just a mass of broken rocks. Sometimes, other items go along with it, which is why you can find a lot of seashells in sedimentary rocks.” She pointed a finger at one huge white shell embedded in the surface. “What we do to identify these rocks is to see how it reacts with hydrochloric acid.”

She opened the bottle she had in her hand and placed a few drops on the rock. The surface began to bubble, like pouring soda in a glass.

“The effervescent reaction is caused by the calcium in it. Then we know there are fossils or shells in the rock.” She put the rock back down and took out the ring again. “Now, let’s say we try it on this little gizmo here, shall we?”

He nodded.

The drop of acid landed right on top of the skull and it glistened under the light but otherwise, nothing happened.

“I don’t understand—”

“Wait for it.”

The liquid slid down the skull, trailing down its sides and landing on the crossbones formation underneath. A bunch of small bubbles erupted on the surface, its hissing sound filling the room.

“Do you see what I mean now?”

“It… It did the thing. It did th-the fizzy thing.”

“Yes, it did.”

“The-then that would mean that…”

“Yes, Naegi. Please continue your thought, I am much interested,” she said, waiting for him to catch on.

He gulped because he had already caught on. “The skull is made of plastic. But the ones underneath… They’re bones. _Human_ bones.”

“You’d make a fine geologist, Naegi.”

 

 

_The downpour of rain had slowed down to a soft drizzle as Fujisaki watched the water trail down the glass windows of the diner that the biker—Daiya, he said his name was—took him to. He had his chin on his hand while Daiya sat across him, digging heartily into his burger._

_“Ey, Chihiro,” he said through bites of his food. The programmer flinched, not quite used to anyone calling him by his first name. It seemed that the gang leader was not one for formalities. ‘I don’t do that shit’, he had said when Fujisaki introduced himself before hopping on his bike. ‘Just call me Daiya and get it all over with.’ What a strange man, Fujisaki thought. “Chihiro, are you gonna eat that?”_

_Fujisaki look down on his fries platter and shrugged, shoving a handful in his mouth. Might as well eat his way through this strange day. He still hadn’t decided whether he liked Daiya or not, but so far he hasn’t tried to punch him despite the fact that he was at least six times bigger. That had to be a good sign._

_“So what is it that you do? Besides bein’ a student, that is. Got any hobbies or anything? Read books, maybe?”_

_“Actually, I…” Fujisaki paused, not sure if he should continue. “I like computers.”_

_“And I like water. Ever tried it?”_

_“No, I mean… Not like that. I… I_ **_like_ ** _computers. Really like them. They’re basically my whole life.”_

_“Dude, if you’ve got some kinks you wanna talk about, I’m not judging you—”_

_“What? NO! It’s nothing like that!” Fujisaki replied, blushing madly. Daiya burst out laughing._

_“Nah, man, I was just kidding. I think that’s brilliant. So what, you’re like an engineer?”_

_Fujisaki frowned, failing to see the hilarity of the situation. He shook his head. “Not like that either.” He waited for Daiya’s laughs to die down. “I’m a programmer. At least, that’s what I want to be.”_

_“Well, why the hell not?”_

_“I’m not sure if I can keep doing it, you know?” He answered truthfully. “Just a few minutes ago, you just saved my major project from getting doused in the rain. I love it, but sometimes I just don’t think that it’s for me.”_

_“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” Daiya put down his burger and wiped his greasy fingers on his shirt. “You’re giving up on this brilliant talent you have just because of some piece of shit dickwad?”_

_“It’s not just that!” Fujisaki crushed a few pieces of fries in his palm. “Everyday it’s just… It gets increasingly harder and I… I’m not even sure if I’ll get very far.”_

_“Bullshit. Tell you what, you keep doing what you do best, and I promise to keep those jerks away from you. Deal?”_

_“What? Why would you do that?! I don’t want to inconvenience you! I hate being an aberration to anyone.”_

_“Relax, man. It’s just a waste to see someone as smart as you be wasted away.”_

_“You don’t even know me.”_

_“I tend to know a lot about people. You have your programming shit, I have that. We all have our own gifts.”_

_“Then what do you know about me?”_

_Daiya only smirked. “Hope you don’t mind that I invited my little brother here. He’s about your age, you’re gonna love him. Oh, there he is now!”_

_Sure enough, another boy walked in through the doors that was just about Fujisaki’s age, but he was much bigger. Clearly the height gene ran through the family. He was supposed to be younger, but he couldn’t have been a couple of inches shorter than Daiya. His hair was long and brown, swept down in a low ponytail behind the base of his neck. He had the same purple eyes as Daiya, but for some reason his did not look as friendly._

_He took a seat next to Daiya and glared at Fujisaki._

_“Mondo, this is Chihiro. Chihiro, Mondo. Be friends!” Daiya said cheerily._

_“Uh… Hello.” Fujisaki greeted feebly._

_Mondo’s glare did not falter as he looked Fujisaki up and down. “Are you gay?”_

_Fujisaki could feel his blood boil. “What? No, of course not!”_

_“Good,” replied Mondo as he stole fries off of Fujisaki’s plate. “Gay people are disgusting.”_

 

 

“Kirigiri, you’re amazing!” Naegi exclaimed as he and the detective walked out of her office. “You’re really onto something now. This opens up a new world of questions.”

“Yes. For example, if their only method of killing is through poison and never through more violent means, then where did they get all these bones?”

“Exactly. I’m stumped on that one.”

“No, it means this isn’t the first time they’ve gone on a killing spree.”

He shuddered. “Whoever this person is must be a real nutter. And why are the bones so small?”

“My guess is that they’re phalanges, or other such bones on the fingers. But what is the objective? Why did they feel it necessary to add such a gruesome accessory?”

“It sure does makes a statement. Seriously, you’re on a whole other level now!”

“I don’t intend to take all the credit. You were the one who took the ring, after all.”

“It didn’t really seem like much, but I’m glad.” He gave her a wide smile.

Her hair blew with the wind, glowing orange under the setting sun. She didn’t smile back at him, which was what he would’ve loved to see, but she held all the thanks in her eyes. She put a hand on Naegi’s arm and patted awkwardly. “You, uh, you can go home now.”

“No, I won’t.” He realized how stupid that answer was quickly and tried to save it. “Unless you want me to, of course! But, uhhh… We can—we can hang out, if you like that. A-as friends of course!”

“Naegi, do you like me?”

He froze. The only thing he could see was a pair of pondering lavender eyes.

“I-I-ahhh… Yes? Maybe? Yes?” His hand came up to fidget with the zipper of his hoodie. “Unless you don’t want me to, then _nooooo._ I do not like you! No wait, hang on, that wasn’t what I was trying to— _GAAAAAH!_ WHY IS IT SO HARD TO TALK TO YOU??” 

Twisting on his heel, he covered his quickly heating face with his hands and paced around. 

He heard a faint sound and paused. Was Kirigiri _giggling?_

He turned to face her again. She had a gloved hand on her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking, her cheeks faintly red. God, that was cute.

He mentally scolded himself. That wasn’t supposed to be the thoughts of someone about to get their ass dumped off. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“I’m sorry. Have I made you uncomfortable?” She had stopped laughing, but there was a smile on her face that didn’t wear off even as she talked. “It’s just that I see things about other people and I just can’t resist asking them about it.”

Naegi flushed wildly. Sweat broke out of his forehead as he tried to go for an easygoing smile. Had he really been that obvious?

“No, Kirigiri, _I’m_ sorry. This must be weird for you. I can understand if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.” He looked down on the ground, digging his shoes in the dirt.

“Oh don’t look so glum. I don’t mind.” He could still hear the smile in her voice. What was she so happy about?

“You don’t?” He looked back at her. Yep. Still smiling. Still gorgeous.

“Why would I?” she sighed. “But what I want you to understand is that I’m not into relationships at all.”

“Oh.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“I’m a mess,” she told him, but he couldn’t quite believe it. “I’m a big mess and I won’t be any good as a girlfriend to you.”

“Wait, so you’re actually _considering_ it?”

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Oh, I won’t dare to. I just really can’t believe it.”

She heaved a sigh. “Maybe… It’s a possibility, alright? But uh, don’t get your hopes up.”

“You know, most people say I am the human embodiment of hope,” he replied, but his attempt at being coy was partially ruined by the blush tainting his cheeks.

She laughed, brushing her bangs away from her face. She reached out to him, grabbing his thumb. They were so close that the movement looked casual, but it made Naegi’s stomach do flip-flops. Her fingers trailed down the length of his thumb, trying to get his attention. He turned his palm to her, opening up his own fingers so that hers could slip right in.

The nighttime sky was more beautiful tonight than on other nights.

“Not right now,” Kirigiri spoke through the air of calm that surrounded them. “But when I’ve sorted myself out, ask me again, alright? Promise me you will.”

“Okay.”

 

 

Kirigiri watched him walk away into the night when he announced his wish to go home, all cheerful and bright-eyed. Human embodiment of hope, huh? That sure seemed promising.

“Hey, Kirigiri?” He paused, turning to her again just before he stepped foot on the sidewalk. “I had a great time getting dumped by you. We should do that again sometime.”

She really shouldn’t be laughing so much, but she couldn’t help it. One night couldn’t hurt. Just one. There was no harm in it. Especially if it made Naegi’s eyes light up like that.

The smile wore off when he disappeared from her view, of course. As nice as that had been, there were still more pressing matters. And she was always a detective first before anything else.

Her hand dug in the pocket of her blazer, taking out a small crumpled note that had been left in her bag when she wasn’t looking. Her eyes narrowed down on the loopy handwriting that made her stomach churn.

_I know who you are, little Sherlock._

 

 

_Over the years, it became evident that Mondo did not like Fujisaki at all. The latter usually did his best to avoid him. They were worlds apart. Mondo had taken to going to the gym, his body taking on a more massive form while Fujisaki kept to his computers. Sometimes he even avoided Daiya, as he was still so adamant that the two become friends. But it just won’t work. Mondo hated his guts._

_He tried to understand him. He really did. Mondo loved Daiya a lot and he wanted Daiya’s attention on him all the time. But the friendship that had sprung between Daiya and Fujisaki came in the way of that and that was why Mondo saw him as a threat._

_He didn’t want to inconvenience the two brothers any longer. He couldn’t keep on relying on Daiya’s strength to protect him. It was time he started taking matters into his own hands._

_So he did what he had to do. He went to the mall and bought ribbons and jackets and skirts and knee-high socks. He’d always been very skinny for a growing guy, so he had no doubt he could pull it off. He switched schools, of course, craving for anonymity. Hoping that everyone would just leave him alone if he finally became what everyone expected him to be._

_He put on his outfit and checked himself in the mirror. The air around his knees and thighs felt weird, but he supposed he could get used to it._

_He was a girl. It was crazy, but that’s definitely what he was doing. There was no backing out now._

_The shock on Daiya’s face when he first saw the new Chihiro Fujisaki was worth a million bucks, but in the end he only laughed it off and offered him snacks, just like he did with all other matters._

_Predictably, Mondo wasn’t quite as pleased._

_He hurled insults at him and called him a “disgusting faggot”. These days, it seemed that he couldn’t even bear to look at Fujisaki anymore. It hurt, but the ploy kept all other bullies away from him, meaning that Daiya didn’t have to keep watch over him as much as he used to._

_Fujisaki tried to ignore Mondo as best as he could. He tried not to let his words get to him. On the inside, he was still a boy after all. He knew in himself that he wasn’t disgusting or appalling. He tried to tell himself that._

_It was just unfortunate that the first time he was left alone with Mondo, he had been lifting some weights._

_Fujisaki couldn’t even assess the situation properly. It all happened so fast. Mondo called him more names, he tried to ignore him. Mondo started yelling, telling him to ‘stop acting like a fucking coward and face me!’ Fujisaki fought back, telling him that all the things he said wasn’t true. Not any of it was true. He was a boy. He could still be a boy, if he wanted._

_Mondo wasn’t happy with any of this. The insults kept coming. Fujisaki may have said a few things back, called him a few other names. It was getting bad, and he wished that Daiya would come back already, but so far no one has come through the front door._

_It was all a blur, a big mess of memories tainted with fears and regrets, and even the words were starting to jumble in his ears because the ringing in his head wouldn’t stop, essentially blocking out his sense of hearing. The world spun. Time kept on. Minutes passed by. Everything went faster and faster, making it hard for Fujisaki to keep breathing and fighting at the same time and he wouldn’t have stopped yelling if it weren’t for the dumbbell that was quickly making its way to his face._

_“MONDO, WHAT THE HELL?” He heard Daiya’s voice, always his saving grace. He stared, stunned, as the older Oowada locked his arms on Mondo’s chest and dragged him back, away from Fujisaki. The dumbbell fell to the floor with a loud thud at Fujisaki’s feet._

_Mondo was crying._

_Daiya pushed him to the side and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him on the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You tryin’ to kill him? You bastard! You sick, sick bastard!”_

_Mondo struggled under his grasp, but in his eyes Fujisaki only saw shame._

_“Daiya-kun,” Fujisaki called out. “It’s fine. Please don’t hurt him!”_

_“Stay out of this, Chihiro!” Daiya yelled back at him. For the first time, the gang leader didn’t have that spark of cheerfulness in his eyes, and when he was angry he was even scarier than Mondo. “And you,” he hissed and turned back to his brother, “I don’t even want to see your face until you learn some fucking respect. Tell him you’re sorry!”_

_Mondo shoved him off, head hung low. Fujisaki watched as the two shared a look that only they could understand._

_That was the first and only time Fujisaki saw Daiya punch Mondo._

 

 

_Daiya’s funeral had been miserable for both Mondo and Fujisaki. The man was a big loss to this world. He was too young. Too bright. Too full of potential. Fujisaki felt a big part of his heart get ripped out that day._

_Though none of that compared to how Mondo was feeling._

_He looked like he was just sleeping, but of course the adornments on his coffin did not hide the fact that he was dead. Fujisaki felt no shame in crying. He cried like a newborn baby, muffling his sobs behind his handkerchief._

_He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Mondo._

_“I need to talk to ya,” he said. Fujisaki nodded and followed him outside. Out where the sun was bright and everything was normal. Where there was no reminder of Daiya’s death, aside from the fact that he wasn’t there with them._

_“Do you have something to say?” Fujisaki asked when they stopped just under a tree. Mondo kicked a stone under his feet. He was angry and sad and so completely and utterly broken._

_“I’m tired,” Mondo said. “And I’m miserable and I’m fucking lame. I only just realized that now.”_

_Fujisaki didn’t know what Mondo wanted him to say, so he went with “So what now?”_

_“What do ya think? I’m takin’ over the gang, of course, That oughta get me somewhere in this shitty life.”_

_“What’s this got to do with me?”_

_“Not everything is fucking about you so shut up.”_

_“Sorry.”_

_“Aniki didn’t get to do a lot of things, so I’m gonna do them for him. I’ll carry on his legacy. I swear I won’t let anything he’s done go to waste.”_

_“That does sound good.”_

_“My brother swore to protect you, right?” He turned to Fujisaki and placed a hand on his heart. “Then in his stead, I’ll protect you too. It’s a man’s promise.”_

_“N-no! Mondo-kun, that is not necessary! I’ll be fine on my own!”_

_“I’ll do it,” he gulped, and his voice broke on the last word. “For him. So that I can do something right for once. So I can make it up to him.” He sat down on the ground and started crying._

_Fujisaki sat next to him, and they cried together._

 

 

When Fujisaki finished telling her story, Ishimaru had tears in his eyes too. He wiped them off and scrambled to his knees so he could look at Oowada. He was still asleep, of course.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “There’s so many things I didn’t know.”

“I hope you realize that I’m telling you this not to show that Mondo’s a bad person, but that he’s changed a whole lot since then.”

“Did he? He seems still as angry and bitter about Daiya-kun’s death to me.” His fingers came to trace down Oowada’s arm. 

“You don’t see it, but I do because I’ve known him longer,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s changed. We both have. We witnessed these changes together. He keeps thinking that he’s here as my protector, when he’s really my best friend. I couldn’t say the same about our thirteen-year-old selves.”

“What do you mean?” Ishimaru asked. “How have _you_ changed?”

“For starters, I don’t mind being called a girl anymore,” she said, giggling. “It took a while, but I realized that it really shouldn’t matter, whether a person’s a boy or a girl. There’s nothing demeaning about men and there’s nothing degrading about women. Life isn’t compartmentalized like that, and when I realized that, I just, well, stopped caring.”

“I’m proud of you, Chihiro.” He told her truthfully.

She flashed him a beaming smile.

Oowada began to stir, grumbling and murmuring incomprehensible words. The two looked to him immediately. His eyes shot open, trying to adjust to the room.

 

 

When Oowada woke up, the first thing he saw was a pair of flaming red eyes mere inches away from his own.

“K-kyoudai?” he murmured hoarsely. Ishimaru was so close that he could feel his breathing on his face. He licked his lips, cracked and dry from being idle for so long a time, and tried to say something more when he was startled by Ishimaru’s hand coming up to slap him on the cheek.

Fujisaki gasped. His face stung. His jaw flexed in pain and shock as he struggled to focus again on Ishimaru’s face. _What the hell?_

“I TOLD YOU TO CUT YOUR HAIR, YOU BONEHEADED DELINQUENT!”


	17. Out of Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens.

Oowada clutched a hand to his stinging cheek, gawking at the heavily breathing hall monitor. He swallowed, dry throat constricting inside of him and briefly blocking the sound of his erratic heartbeat. “Yeah, I s’pose I deserved that.”

“I warned you!” Ishimaru’s voice was seething. “I told you but you didn’t listen! And look at what happened, you moron!”

“Ishimaru, calm down,” Fujisaki tried to soothe him.

“ _Calm down?_ ” He yelled at her, making the programmer flinch. “He’s in a hospital bed, Chihiro! What am I supposed to do?”

“I think I should leave you two alone.” Oowada shot her a pleading look, but she glared back. _This is all you._ her look said, _You fix this._ She turned her back and exited the room.

“I’m sorry,” Ishimaru said, as if he realized that he might have overreacted a tad bit. “The nurse said you had a concussion. I shouldn’t have slapped you. Are you hurt?”

He laid a hand on Oowada’s forehead, feeling around for a bit. It slid down the side of his face, cupping the cheek that he had attacked.

“Kyoudai,” Oowada murmured, resisting the strange urge to lean into the touch. Barely. “Your hand’s fucking cold, man.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “They get like that when—when I am frightened about something.”

A silence settled over the two for a while. Ishimaru made to pull his hand away, but Oowada’s own hand came up to stop him, gripping his fingers tight. The gang leader’s eyes zeroed in on Ishimaru’s face, right above his right cheekbone. It was only a little blemish, barely noticeable unless you were really looking for it, but it was certainly there. A pale reddish bruise from where he’d punch him last night.

Ishimaru noticed him scrutinizing it and made to cover his face with his arm. “Th-this is nothing, kyoudai.”

“I fucked up. I did it. I’m an A-class douche bag now.” _My name is Mondo Oowada and it may be my job to fuck things up now!_

“Don’t say such things!” Ishimaru attempted to pull his hand away again. Oowada held on even tighter, thinking he might go off running for the hills if he didn’t.

“You should’ve done something,” Oowada replied gruffly. He could feel himself getting angry again. “That day you beat me up. Remember that? You were more than capable.”

Ishimaru shook his head. “I could never hurt you.”

“ _I_ hurt _you!_ You definitely had the right! Come to think of it, if you say you’re so fucking good at defending yourself, why is it that you never do when the situation calls for it? Why do you always let the bullies have their way with you?”

The hall monitor flinched at his words and averted his gaze. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me, damn it!” Oowada’s free hand curled into a fist, wanting to punch a wall or something. But he couldn’t aim it at anything other than the sheets underneath him. “You never tell me anything!”

“Because you were right to do so,” Ishimaru yelled back, just as frustrated now. “I angered you, and I had seen it coming.”

Oowada glared at him, not believing what he just heard. “That’s fucked up. That is so fucked up, Ishi, you have no idea.”

“What is so wrong about it? It was only right that I pay for my mistakes. You don’t have to blame yourself for it.”

“Ishimaru,” he gulped, uncertain whether to cross dangerous territory now. But if he wanted to get to the bottom of what exactly was going on in the prefect’s mind, he had to get out with it. “A while back, you told me that your father was an alcoholic, right?”

Red eyes widened as soon as he’d finished, peering at him, boring holes into him. He’d been caught and he knew it.

Ishimaru nodded.

Oowada let out a low growl. “What I did last night…” he gulped, not really ecstatic at being reminded of the vile thing he’d done. “He did that to you, too… a lot… didn’t he?”

The prefect cocked his head to the side, closed his eyes, and nodded again.

“You are _so_ fucked up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oowada slapped his hands to his face, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes as he released a deep sigh. “ _You’re_ fucked up. _I’m_ fucked up. This whole thing is fucked fucked fuckity fuck—”

“Mondo, stop it! You know I am allowing you only ten swear words per day.”

“ _Pfft._ Fine. You might actually start writing up tickets for this.”

“I have been considering it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Crazier than I thought.”

“Coming from you, I don’t mind.”

Oowada knew that they were getting off topic, but if it meant seeing just a sliver of those coffee-stained teeth he’d been so dearly accustomed to already, he didn’t mind delaying all the sad stuff for a little while.

“Anything big I missed today?” Oowada asked. He didn’t really care about school, of course. He just loved seeing the light in Ishimaru’s eyes whenever he talked about it.

Strangely, though, this time his expression remained grave. Ishimaru frowned. “No, you didn’t miss anything.”

“Whoa there. Something happened, definitely. Usually you’d be bouncing off the walls just talking about some stupid meeting or something.”

“My meetings aren’t stupid. It’s nothing. Don’t concern yourself with it.

“You’re not wearing your arm band.”

“I _don’t_ want to talk about it.” Ishimaru crossed his arms on his chest and that was that. Oowada didn’t press him for more.

He gave the prefect a small, close-lipped smile, signalling to him that he didn’t want to fight anymore. Ishimaru smiled back, short-lived as it was. Oowada knew he had many things to apologize for, so he had to make do with that for now.

Ishimaru stood still with his arms crossed, gaze seemingly transfixed by the bandages on Oowada’s chest. He was wearing a horrified expression and the biker knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Yo, hall monitor. I know I have a smoking bod and all, but my eyes are up here,” he joked.

To his surprise, Ishimaru looked up instantly and blushed.

Hey, now _that_ was interesting.

“Ishi, I’m sorry for hitting you, alright? In fact, I’m sorry for everything. I was drunk and stupid and I did things…” he trailed off, suddenly remembering the feeling of Ishimaru pressed up against him steadily in his arms. “…That I shouldn’t have. And you shoulda kicked me in the balls or something. Really.”

“I wasn’t going to do that!” He replied. Oowada wondered if his eyes could get any wider.

“I hit first! You had the advantage and I was pissed as hell. You totally should’ve gone all Ip Man shit on me, Ishi, work with me here!”

“I just don’t understand. I don’t understand you at all,” Ishimaru mumbled in a way that Oowada thought he probably didn’t mean to be heard. He took the vacated seat next to the bed and perched his elbows on his knees with his chin on top of his hands.

He looked a lot smaller that way.

“Hey,” Oowada called gently, holding out a hand in his direction. “You okay?” 

For a few seconds, Ishimaru did nothing but stare at it before he nodded. Slowly, he brought up his own hand and placed it on Oowada’s, their palms pressed together.

For a while, they remained like that, Ishimaru playing with Oowada’s fingers, tracing the outlines of his bones where they led down to join together. His strokes were featherlight and tentative. Oowada attempted to catch his fingers with his own, but Ishimaru always pulled back, only resuming his ministrations when Oowada’s fingers had gone still again.

It was a rather comforting act.

“I learned something new today,” Ishimaru spoke, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Something about you. Chihiro told me about how you two met and became friends.”

Oowada’s stomach dropped and he suddenly had the urge to throw up. He snatched his hand away from Ishimaru’s grasp and attempted to turn on his side, away from the prefect, but the movement strained his injured ribs and he gasped in pain.

Everything came crumbling down before him at that moment. That was it. Ishimaru knew about the awful things he’d done to sweet little Fujisaki. He was going to lose Ishimaru because of how utterly fucked up he was. As if last night’s incident hadn’t been enough already, where he basically assaulted him, he went on to find out about this.

What would life be like without Ishimaru? He couldn’t remember what it was before. He didn’t want to go back to that now.

“Mondo, no,” Ishimaru laid a hand on his shoulder to still him. “Please, we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just leave it.”

“But there’s something I want to say.”

“She told you. She fucking told you. I can’t believe it! I—”

“It’s okay.”

“What?”

Ishimaru leaned forward on his seat, his face coming near above Oowada’s. Like this, Oowada couldn’t find it in himself to look away from those pleading ruby red eyes. Ishimaru’s tongue darted out past his lips briefly before speaking. “I said it’s fine, Mondo.”

His voice was so soft, laced with gentle concern and ingenuity. He was like an angel.

“Chihiro… I hurt her. I could’ve done much worse if Aniki hadn’t stopped me. You must be really messed up if you think that any of that is okay.”

The gentle eyes above him started to bear tears. He hated it when Ishimaru cried but Oowada seemed to be inducing his tears more times than he could count. 

“I’m trying to think that way,” Ishimaru replied, choking on his words. “I know what you did was wrong. I know that! But I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t find any fault in you.” He closed his eyes and a tear dropped on Oowada’s cheek. “I know you will do many stupid things and I’ll just keep forgiving you over and over again. Maybe… maybe I really _am_ messed up.”

Oowada regarded him for a moment, stunned. That was not the answer he had been expecting. Far from it, actually. He wanted to hug Ishimaru. He wanted him to stop crying. He wanted to kiss him.

_God_ , how badly he wanted to kiss him.

It struck him, the intensity of it. But it wasn’t as unpleasant as he thought it would be, realizing that he had not-so-friendly feelings for his best friend. Growing up, he’d always been averse to relationships and all that fluffy shit. He’d spent years perfecting the high walls that shielded him from all that the world had to offer—pain, fear, a rush of hope only to be followed by staggering bouts of despair. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. Such was how he lived in the past with no fractures or falterings in his faith. But it was only when he looked at Ishimaru that he could feel everything in his resolve come crashing down.

He liked Ishimaru. He liked his strong moral principles and willingness to learn, his little quirks and all the things he found annoying and ridiculous, although he’d never admit it out loud they were actually quite cute. He liked that he rarely initiated conversations but told stories non-stop once prompted. He liked the sound of his laugh and the sight of his coffee-stained teeth. He liked seeing him happy. He liked _making_ him happy, because Lord knew he never did that enough, if at all. Ishimaru was brave, loyal, and independent. Smart and strong-willed. Completely beautiful and utterly amazing. 

Oowada had to physically restrain himself from grabbing Ishimaru’s face and closing the remaining distance between them. He was still crying.

“You…” the gang leader sighed. “You worry too much.”

Ishimaru worried his lip between his teeth briefly and released it, causing white to turn into a dark shade of pink that so distracted Oowada that he barely understood what Ishimaru said next.

“I’m sorry that I care too much,” the prefect replied in a steady tone. “I seem to have this irrational fear of losing you all the time and I can’t help it.”

What was he even saying? It was driving Oowada crazy. He brought up one hand to ruffle it in Ishimaru’s raven hair affectionately. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Does it freak you out? I understand if it does.”

Oowada shook his head. “I’ve always known you weren’t right in the head, hall monitor,” he joked. “But I don’t mind.” It was probably Ishimaru who would freak out if he had any idea how much Oowada wanted him. For what, exactly? Anything. He wanted Ishimaru to stay with him, anywhere, anytime. He wanted to keep him to make sure he was safe and no harm came to him. The things he felt for this man were so immense that it was enough to drive anyone away. 

But Ishimaru need not know about that. For now, he was completely clueless. Ishimaru smiled. “I’m just relieved that you are okay, kyoudai.”

“You do know that this has happened a million times before, right? Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I want it to happen again, though. I’ll make sure of that.” 

“Whatever. You’re weird.” _I love you._

“You too.”

“W-what?”

Ishimaru chuckled. “You’re weird, too, Mondo. Sometimes you’re even weirder than I am.”

_Oh. That._ “Hell no. I’m awesome.”

“That too.”

They laughed. It’s been so long since they last had been like this. The easy banter and light laughter. Oowada was perfectly content with them just being this way. Even if Ishimaru never found out about his feelings, it was enough for him to just live out the rest of his life without fucking up whatever it was that they had.

The door to the room opened and a doctor came in. Oowada briefly recognized him but didn’t bother to remember his name or anything else about him for that matter. He was a short balding man who had so much wrinkles it looked like he was slowly being dragged to the ground and that was about as far as Oowada could bring himself to care about.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Oowada?” asked the doctor.

“Like I’ve been tossed over and over in an electric cage and turned to goo. My head is killing me.”

The doctor laughed. “That would be from the concussion. You took quite the blow there when you slammed into that post. I’d advise you to stop drinking, but hey, that’s your life.”

Ishimaru pouted and made a sideways glance at the gang leader. “No, doctor, that request would be perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances.”

“I think you’ll find, _doctor,_ ” Oowada replied just as snarky, “that I am perfectly capable of caring for myself.”

“Oh sure. Because we all know how _splendid_ that turned out to be,” said Ishimaru, rolling his eyes.

The doctor cleared his throat. “If I may interrupt your banter, Mr. Oowada, I’m afraid that because of your concussion, you won’t be riding any bikes any time soon.”

Oowada sat up. “WHAT?” 

“HALLELUJAH!” Ishimaru cried, pumping his fist in the air.

“W-well, don’t be so dismayed. It won’t be forever. Anything that might bother your head won’t be good for you. It’ll only be for about a month.”

“A fucking month?! I have a gang to uphold!”

“Mondo, _shush!_ ” Ishimaru put a hand on his forehead and pushed, forcing him to lie back down. “This nice doctor knows what’s good for you. You’d do well to listen to him.”

“Oh yes. Of course, mother,” he muttered sarcastically. Ishimaru shot him a glare.

“You will _not_ be riding bikes as long as you are under my watch! Understood?” 

Oowada grumbled, deeply grieved by the news, and sighed in resignation. _This is the man I have chosen to place my affections on._

“In any case,” Ishimaru said, glancing at his watch. “It is getting late. I should go home now.”

“Good riddance.” 

“Please. You like having me here.”

_Oh you have no idea._

The prefect shot him an easygoing smile. He then turned to the doctor, made a salute, and walked out the door, and it was only when he was gone that Oowada noticed how fucking ugly the hospital room was.

 

 

The next day, Naegi and Fujisaki met up at the school entrance, as was their usual routine. And once again, Ikusaba was nowhere to be found.

“To be honest, I’m starting to worry about her,” said Fujisaki as the two walked down the hallway side by side.

“Really? How come?”

“Well, she’s not been talking very much lately…”

“She’s like that _all_ the time, Chihiro.”

“No, even more so now. I always knew she didn’t talk much, but she always looked content. Now I just look at her and she has this distant look in her eyes all the time.”

“Hm. Wonder what happened.”

“You should go talk to her.”

“What? Why me?”

Fujisaki stopped walking and turned to him, wide-eyed. “Makoto-kun, please don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“About what? That Ikusaba’s sad? Didn’t you just tell me?” 

Fujisaki did a facepalm, groaning. “Men are so _stupid!_ ”

“I have no idea what you’re on about!”

“Seriously? The looks she’s giving you? Nothing??”

Naegi tried to look back to his recent interactions with Ikusaba. She’d always been apathetic to everything, but she was a pleasant companion all the same. He had the feeling she was a very good listener. Other than that, he didn’t really think anything odd about her.

“Why? Wait, don’t tell me she secretly hates me too like her sister does!” He panicked, not sure how to handle that sort of betrayal. “I thought we were friends!”

Fujisaki slapped his arm. She was surprisingly strong for such a small person.

“Ow! What did I do _now_?”

“You’re so daft! Go talk to her, you moron!”

“Alright, alright, I will!” He said, rubbing his arm. “As soon as I see her, I’ll go ask her what’s wrong, and hopefully there’s something we can do to help.”

Fujisaki beamed. “That’s the spirit! Oh, there she is right now!”

Ikusaba stood at the end of the hall, rummaging through her backpack. She was alone, thankfully. Naegi didn’t think he could handle talking to her if her sister was around. He began to walk towards her when suddenly, a hand shot out from nowhere and grasped his wrist.

“Naegi,” a clear and familiar voice rang out. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He turned around and was met with Kirigiri’s steady gaze. The one that had been so inculcated in him already he could probably paint it with his eyes closed. He flushed instantly, up to the tips of his ears. He still wasn’t sure what to make of their last conversation, or if it meant anything at all to the purple-haired detective. She probably didn’t care. In fact, now that he thought of it, did that actually happen? Cause it seemed pretty dreamlike to him. 

“H-hi, Kirigiri,” he said lamely. He wanted to spend more time with her, of course, but he was reminded of the agenda at hand. “Can this wait just a bit? I have to go to Ikusaba first.”

“Don’t.” The grip on his wrist tightened. “I strongly advise against it.”

Naegi tilted his head in confusion then smiled. “Come on, Kirigiri, don’t be ridiculous.” He pulled his hand from her grasp. “I’m just gonna go over and say hi.”

“I have a bad feeling about her, alright? You shouldn’t… You shouldn’t be talking to her anymore.”

This time, Naegi frowned. “What are you talking about? She’s a nice girl! What’s she done to you that you would think she’s dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” the detective replied. “I just get bad vibes when I see her. And her sister…”

“And you think I’m gonna stop talking to her just because you aren’t comfortable around her?”

“Naegi, listen to me! You _know_ my gut feelings are always right.”

“She hasn’t even done anything to you,”

“You should listen to me. She is bad news.”

“Ikusaba is my _friend!_ ” He gestured a hand in the mercenary’s direction. She was starting to walk away now. He turned back to Kirigiri, expression grave. “You’re an amazing detective. There’s no doubt about that. But frankly, you’re a really awful friend.” 

As soon as the words went out his mouth, he regretted them. He could see that they upset her, that cold mask of hers faltering for the briefest of seconds before resuming its usual pose. He could try to say sorry, but the damage has been done. And maybe there was a little part inside of him that really did mean what he said. There was no taking it back.

Unable to bear the look on her face, Naegi turned around and ran after Ikusaba without looking back.

 

 

“Hey, Ikusaba! Wait up!” Naegi called after her, but it seemed that the moment she heard his voice she walked even faster.

He hastened his footsteps, nearly panting because of how fast he was going. She took many turns and climbed up a flight of stairs. It was ridiculous. Like a wild goose chase. He cursed mentally. Why is it that out of all the people he chose to run after, it had to be the _soldier?_ He was so not cut out for running. Wait, this wasn’t even running. This was just really fast walking. He’d been walking for all of his life and he only just found out that he sucked at it.

At last, though, as if she sensed the luckster’s predicament, she stopped. He caught up to her, panting.

“H-hi!” He didn’t think he’d actually get this far, and his shortness of breath made it a bit harder for him to think of what to say. “How are ya?”

She turned to him, and he couldn’t decide which steel gaze was scarier, hers or Kirigiri’s.

Ikusaba never looked at him like that before.

“Naegi-kun,” she said quietly. Her voice was as soft as a single owl’s hoot through the still night. “Did you need anything?”

“Uh, no, actually… I was just wondering if you’re okay. You’ve been a bit under the weather lately. Is there anything we can do to cheer you up?” He beamed at her, hoping to put her at ease.

She averted his gaze and tried to play dumb. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t been hanging out with me and Chihiro lately. We missed your company!”

“I didn’t even think you’d notice that I was gone.”

He frowned. “Well, we definitely noticed.” Okay, maybe Fujisaki noticed. But he was too busy hunting down a gruesome serial killer. Cut him some slack!

Ikusaba hugged her books to her chest, closing herself off from him. She looked anywhere but at him. “How are you and Kirigiri-san?”

Now that was a question he definitely didn’t expect. “We are… fine? I think?” He tried not to think about the fight they had. He’ll sort that out later. 

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time lately.” Why did she sound so sad?

“Well, yeah!” He scratched the back of his head and willed himself not to blush. “We’ve been working on this… _thing_ together.”

“You mean the English project?”

“What? Oh, I mean, yeah! Definitely!”

If the objective of this conversation was to try to cheer her up, he was failing miserably judging by the state of her expressions.

“Naegi-kun, please don’t concern yourself with me from now on,” she said, already turning away from him. Her back tensed and her head was bowed. “It isn’t your responsibility to… _I’m_ not your responsibility.”

“Oh.” Fujisaki had been wrong then. Not even Naegi could make her happy. “I’ll see you at lunch, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

But he didn’t eat lunch with them that day. She ate with Enoshima. In fact, she went back to trailing after her twin like a lost dog after that.

Naegi pretended that he didn’t notice the smug smiles being sent at his direction coming from strange blonde girl.

 

 

Mondo Oowada entered the doors of Hope’s Peak Academy after being gone for two days. Yup. That’s how hardcore he was. He only needed two days to recover from a biking accident and he was up and running again. _Fu-cking awe-some._

Okay, so maybe he had to yell a lot at that stupid doctor so he could leave. He was fine! He was just a bit sleepier than usual, and of course he needed to stay away from straining activities, but other than that he had nothing to worry about. 

Or maybe he just really wanted to see Ishimaru again when he wasn’t half-naked in a god damn hospital bed, for crying out loud. The kid looked like he was gonna get a heart attack _every single time_ he entered the hospital room.

He trudged on, getting a few stares from the people in the hall, but he paid them no mind. They needed to mind their own business. It was still the same old school. Same old hallways. Not that he expected anything to change, really. Not much can happen in two days after all. He felt a tug on his backpack and paused.

“What the hell—”

“Ahhhh! Oowada-kun! Hold it!” An oddly familiar voice spoke from behind him. He heard the zipper of his bag open and he twisted quickly to see the offender.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, MAN?”

Yasuhiro Hagakure looked up at him with one hand still inside his bag, lopsided smile on his face.

“Just checking for drugs.”

Oowada frowned. His eyes were drawn to Hagakure’s forehead and his frown deepened. “Dude, that’s Ishimaru’s arm band! What the hell are you doing with that??”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? I’m the new hall monitor now.” He flashed the gang leader a winning smile and the band fell down on his face and covered his eyes. “AAHHHH! I’M BLIND!”

“That’s because you put it on your _arm_ , moron.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job!” Hagakure perched the band up on his head. “Well, it looks like you’re clear. _Tsk._ Stay in school, kid.”

Oowada gaped at his strange classmate as he walked away.

Two days, he reminded himself.

He was gone _two days._


	18. Into the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ding ding! A body has been discovered!

Kiyotaka Ishimaru’s boots made pattering sounds as he stepped on puddles on the way to the front door of his home. He shivered and huddled his jacket tighter around him as the overcast skies mercilessly poured down water with all its might. The sky lit up for a split second, followed by a roll of thunder. The hall monitor ran faster, almost panting. The rain was soaking him to the bone, but he couldn’t be bothered with that now when he was almost home.

When he entered the house, he went straight to the bathroom, trying to get the least amount of water on the flooring. He could hear movement coming from the living area. Rushed movement. He paid it no mind.

He exited the room wearing only his pants, having left his soaking wet shirt in the bathroom. He then walked to his room in order to change to some dry clothing, the whole time feeling a pair of eyes trained on him. 

“You’re going to get a cold like that, Kiyotaka,” his mother says as she took a seat in the corner of the room. She liked corners a lot. Ishimaru made it a point to have some kind of chair in every corner of the house so that she didn’t have to sit on the floor. 

“I’m fine now, mother,” he replied, already walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. “What would you like for dinner?”

“It’s raining really hard. They say there’s going to be a thunderstorm tonight. You should’ve brought an umbrella.”

“I was in a hurry. What do you want to eat?”

“You should be more careful. You don’t know what’s out there. It could be anything.”

Ishimaru slammed the fridge door shut. “I said I’m  _fine_ , mother!” He sighed and tried to keep his anger in check.  _Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…_

“You teenage boys never listen to your mothers’ advice,” she continued sadly. “That is something you will regret someday, you know.”

“It’s not like you’ve ever told me anything useful before,” he muttered under his breath.

“I know how smart you are, Kiyotaka. You are very, very smart. But no amount of intelligence can beat an old person’s wisdom. Nothing refines the mind like age does. So you’d do well to listen, young man!”

Ishimaru began setting the table. “How should I even reply to that?” He kept muttering so that she couldn’t hear, though she probably wasn’t listening anyway. Already lost in her own world. He sat down and started eating, looking anywhere but at her. “When you do these things all of a sudden, how should I even respond?”

Ishimaru just wanted to eat in silence so he could be done with the day’s chores and resume studying without further ado. His mother, however, seemed to be in a talkative mood.

“Be careful,” she kept saying. “Much danger awaits outside these doors. You don’t know, Kiyotaka. You don’t know.”

“You are over thinking again.”

“I’ve been watching the news. There’s a serial killer in our town. Have you heard?”

Ishimaru racked his brains. With all that has happened the past few days, he barely had enough time to watch the news. Though what his mother mentioned did seem somewhat familiar. “The one where a little boy was killed? Yeah, I think I heard.”

“The outside is dangerous. Be careful, Kiyotaka.”

“You have nothing to worry about, mother. It’s not like I hang out with murderers on a daily basis.”

They ate dinner in silence after that. Rain continued to pour heavily outside. Ishimaru watched his mother carefully as she flinched when a clap of thunder broke out. 

That night, Ishimaru rolled out of his bed and walked to his mother’s room. He could hear her faint whimpering from across the hall. Bouts of thunder and lightning carried on mercilessly and he knew she was in deep trouble.

He opened the door and found her huddled under a thick blanket, shivering. He leaned against the doorframe, hesitating for a moment before crawling on the bed beside her and putting his arms around her waist. Slowly, the shivering stopped. 

The thunderstorm went on unceasingly as Ishimaru tried to go back to sleep. Of course, he had to make sure she was asleep first before he did so. Her whimpers died down after a while and her breathing slowed. He sneaked a glance at her face, damp with tears and sighed again before rolling onto his back and finally letting dreams overcome, having no idea that his mother would prove to be completely right, just as she said.

 

 

The morning after brought about a day more beautiful than the one before. The roads, still a bit damp with yesterday’s downpour, were clear and sparkling under the streams of sunlight. Birds chirped from the top of houses. Butterflies came to visit gardens. All came together to make a rather cinematic view. For one Mondo Oowada, this was a sign that he was in for a great day.

After picking up Fujisaki from her house, as was his usual daily routine, the two made their way to Hope’s Peak. It was a Friday, which was another thing that made the day a good one. He was already looking forward to it.

“Ey, Chihiro,” he spoke up just as they entered the doors of Hope’s Peak. “I don’t know if this sounds weird or something, but why the hell is Hagakure our hall monitor now?”

Fujisaki let out a high-pitched squeak, like she’d been prodded with a needle. “Ahh, well… It’s kind of a funny story, actually! You see, Ishimaru… He did  _something_  when he-when he realized you were in the hospital.”

The gang leader’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? What did the weirdo do now?”

She gulped. “It’s kind of hard to explain unless you were really there, but it was something bad, and he got in trouble for it, which is why he was replaced.”

“Ishimaru? Get in trouble? We  _are_ talking about the same person, right?”

“I told you, it’s hard to explain! It’s only temporary, though! I’m sure he’ll be back up and running again by the end of the day!”

“Well this is certainly weird,” Oowada remarked as he searched the hall. “I see people, but no hall monitor. No Ishi, no Hagakure. What’s going on?”

“Maybe Hagakure is just late? No, wait, he’s over there!”

She was right. Oowada was able to spot Hagakure’s wild hair all the way from the other end of the hall. “He’s not wearing Ishi’s arm band anymore and he doesn’t seem to be checking anyone for cocaine or shit. Think that means kyoudai’s back on the job.”

“That’s great, then!” Fujisaki said happily. “But then where is he? If Ishimaru’s the hall monitor, then it really isn’t like him to be late. In fact, he’s usually the first to arrive.”

“Yeah…” Oowada pondered on that for a moment and shrugged. “Let’s just go ahead to the classroom. It’s still a bit early. We could be the first ones there.”

They reached the classroom door. Oowada turned the handle and pushed it open. Contrary to what he’d been expecting, they were not the first ones in the room. In fact, there were already two people there. Ishimaru stood stock still in the back of the room, his eyes distant and his jaw hanging as he stared at something that was on the floor.

Oowada ran to him immediately, setting aside chairs and anything else that got in his way. There was another person on the floor. Ishimaru was staring at a dead body.

“What the hell??”

The prefect’s head snapped towards the voice. He had the same distant look in his eyes even as he looked at his best friend. “M-Mondo? Ahh, c-can you tell me what’s going on, please?”

Oowada looked at him, at the body, and back at Ishimaru. His heart was beating so fast and he felt wires in his brain try to connect with one another and failing miserably, making all sorts of coherent thought impossible.

“I’ll go get the headmaster!” Fujisaki yelled and all but ran out the room.

 

 

A few minutes later, Headmaster Jin Kirigiri entered the room. He took one look at the body and took out his phone. “Kyouko, where are you? I need you here this instant.”

The whole time, Ishimaru remained standing and staring at the body. It was a man, definitely, but it wasn’t someone who went to this school. He was fat and short and his tan trench coat was bloody and sprawled out beneath him. He had a nasty looking wound on the side of his neck that ran straight across, marring the skin surrounding it. Oowada was no forensics expert, but it was clear that this guy had been shot.

And that he also seemed vaguely familiar.

Right next to the body was another gruesome sight and he wondered why he didn’t notice it before. It was a message. Arranged. Untouched. Written with bones, and he tried not to think about if they were real bones or not.

_SILVER BLAZE._

Kyouko Kirigiri chose to enter the room at that moment, and Oowada had no idea why, perhaps it was because there was a certain change of air in the way she commanded the room but the moment he saw her he stepped aside in order to give her a better view of the body.

The headmaster cleared his throat. “You kids have to go.”

“No,” the purple-haired girl interrupted from her crouched position on the floor next to the body. “It’s fine. They can stay. And they discovered the body, so I’ll be asking them a few questions.”

Oowada frowned. “Hey, wait a minute! Just who do you think you are to—”

“Kirigiri! I got your text! What happened?” Naegi burst into the room, panting. 

The headmaster held out an arm in front of him. “Naegi, I should advise you to leave this room immediately.”

Kirigiri stood up slowly and dusted off her skirt. Her face showed no panic as she held her father’s stern gaze. “Naegi is my investigative partner. I need him to stay  _here._ ”

The headmaster shot her a look, but sighed in defeat and let Naegi pass through. Blood drained from his face the moment he saw the body. “Kirigiri-san! This is… This is!”

“Hey, hold on there!” Oowada yelled, confused as hell and demanding an explanation. “What’s going on? Why are two kids poking at this body and why the hell is that purple cult leader gonna ask me questions?”

Naegi’s jaw hardened and for a second, he looked so genuinely angry that he probably would have punched Oowada. You know, if he could just reach the gang leader’s shoulders maybe.

Instead, Kirigiri stepped past him and stood right in front of Oowada. Smoothly, she took out an ID card and shoved it in his face. On it, against a dark background was written a gold inscription of Kirigiri’s full name and the numbers ’915’.

“I am Detective Kyouko Kirigiri and I specialize in murders and homicides, locked room mysteries, and serial killings. I have been called to investigate a body that you happened to be a discoverer of. Should you withhold any information from me, I can arrange for a court case and have you tried for obstruction of justice, so you  _will_  tell me everything you know. Are we clear, Oowada-kun?”

Oowada leaned back, gulped, and nodded. Crazy. This woman was definitely out of it. “Wait, so you’re an  _actual_ detective?”

“You can look me up under the DSC index if you wish, but right now I have a job to get to. Excuse me.”

The detective calmly resumed her crouching position beside the body, eyes examining every detail carefully, leaving everyone else in the room gaping after her.

 

 

Naegi can’t believe this. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

“Cause of death is a gunshot to the neck,” Kirigiri said with her usual composure. Naegi had no idea why she wasn’t even the least bit nauseous looking at the corpse. “Cut straight through the jugular vein. Though I imagine he had a few minutes of consciousness before dying completely, and—” she stopped suddenly, turning to the Ishimaru, who had not moved an inch through all of this.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Ishimaru-kun, are you alright?”

It took a few moments before he could respond. He just stood there, staring at Kirigiri with a distracted look in his eyes. “Y…yes. I-I’m fine.”

The detective kept kept surveying him, not quite believing it. “Hang in there,” she said, and turned back to her investigation. 

“Kirigiri,” Naegi said, gulping. “This is him, isn’t it?”

She didn’t look at him as she replied. “Yes. As you have probably noticed, this is the dead body of Kou Inuzuka.” 

“And who is that?” asked the headmaster.

“Mr. Inuzuka is the detective assigned to investigate the Sagittarii killings,” Naegi supplied. “But this is a gunshot, so it can’t be the work of the Sagittarii killer, right?”

Kirigiri nodded. “Most likely, but we will not discount the possibility.”

“So what are you implying? That he was killed by the poison but shot by another person like that little boy?” 

“Naegi, be quiet.”

He shut up and watched as the purple-haired detective carried on examining. Her gloved hands hovered over the body, never touching anything. Her eyes narrowed in extreme scrutiny. Not one person in the room uttered a sound.

Kirigiri sat up straight and jumped to the body’s other side. She tugged on Inuzuka’s arm, which had been pinned underneath the body until then. Naegi had no idea what she planned to accomplish by the task, but he continued watching.

Inuzuka’s hand was revealed to the air of the room. Dark and grimy and stubby and hairy. Though of course, those weren’t the details Kirigiri had hoped to show.

Inuzuka was wearing the Sagittarii killer’s skull and crossbones ring.

“It’s them,” Kirigiri spoke. “This is the work of the Sagittarii killer. There’s no doubt about it.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense!” Naegi countered, highly doubting her statement. “This isn’t a poisoning case, it’s a gunshot!”

“The ring is the killer’s signature, Naegi. There’s no denying it.”

“How do you know this wasn’t the work of another person trying to mask this as a Sagittarii kill, huh?” Naegi didn’t want to be angry with her, but he was sincerely wondering why she was being so daft at the moment.

“Because the ring doesn’t lie.”

“But we can’t discount the possibility, right?”

Kirigiri turned to him and pinned him under her steel gaze. He held it, not wanting to back down. He knew they were letting the conflict from their last conversation overcome this situation, but he didn’t care. Why can’t Kirigiri just listen to someone else for a change? Why does she always have to think she’s the only one who’s right?

“This is a Sagittarii kill, Naegi,” she says slowly. “Just trust me.”

“Why should I when you never trusted  _me?_ ”

The words seem to cut through to her for a fleeting moment, but she quickly regained her composure. Remembering that there were other people in the room, including Kirigiri’s  _dad_  for god’s sake, Naegi tried to keep his anger in check.

“Then if you can’t trust me, you should at least trust my skills and my professionalism.” She turned back to the body and walked over to the written message on the floor. “ _Silver blaze…_  What does this mean?”

“It sounds familiar,” Ishimaru whispered hoarsely, speaking up for the first time since Naegi’s arrival. “I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

“What the hell, man? Don’t tell me this has something to do with you!” Oowada said. “No way. No fucking way.”

“No, it doesn’t concern me. It’s just… I’ve heard this from somewhere, but I can’t remember what it is.”

“Ishimaru-kun,” Kirigiri spoke, looking intently at the shellshocked hall monitor. “If you could try to remember, it would be a huge help.”

The prefect nodded. “I’ll try. I’ll tell you immediately when I’ve figured it out.”

Kirigiri picked up one of the bones from the letter B. “This is a humerus. The whole message is made with human bones.”

“Like the ring?” Naegi asked.

“Yes. But this is much, much worse.”

“Where is the killer getting these bones?”

“Past victims, most probably.”

Silence took over the room and a peculiar chill seemed to run through everyone’s spine.

Headmaster Kirigiri cleared his throat. “I’ll arrange for another classroom for your whole class and put the entire school under maximum security. Kyouko, I ask for your help in this.”

“What do you need?” she asked, her back turned to him.

“If word gets around that there’s been a dead body in this school, it will cause all the parents to worry. I ask that you try to keep this under wraps for now.”

“I have no control over the media, sir. I’m a detective.”

“There has to be  _some_ way you can keep this a secret. Do not let anyone else know of this unless you are absolutely sure who this rabid killer is.”

“I will do what I can. As for putting this school under maximum security, I am afraid that effort will be futile.”

The headmaster frowned. “What are you talking about? I have a duty to make sure every student in this school is protected from this killer!”

“It’s too late for that. The killer is already inside this school.”

Naegi froze. “W-what?! No! That can’t be true!”

The headmaster looked like he also wanted to retort, but he only nodded and walked out of the room, leaving the kids all alone.

Oowada sat down on a desk and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re sayin’ the killer’s still hiding here somewhere?”

“No,” replied Kirigiri. She pointed to the spot on the floor directly under the body, which was sparkly clean. “Look. There’s a dead body all wounded and bloody, but there’s absolutely no blood on the floor. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“Yeah, but what does it mean?” Naegi asked.

“It means the body wasn’t murdered here. There’s a gunshot wound but there aren’t any burn marks around it, meaning he’d been shot from over a distance, most probably from another building. There doesn’t appear to be any sign of a struggle in this room and no clues as to where the bullet went through. Not to mention the bullet itself is also missing. No, the killer isn’t hiding here because the body has been transferred after the deed was done. What I mean is that the killer is a  _student_  in this school.”

“Th-that’s fucked up, man! You’re kidding, right?” Oowada all but yelled at her. Fujisaki clutched his arm, trying to get him to quiet down.

“But why was it necessary to transfer the body?” Naegi pitched in. He tried not to think too much about how they both refused to call the corpse by his actual name. “What purpose would that serve?”

Kirigiri looked back at the scattering of human bones on the floor with a pondering gaze. “They’re getting bold. The killer is sending a message. But what does it mean? And who is it for?”

“I know.” Ishimaru yelled so suddenly that it shocked everyone. He still looked pale and shocked, but the vigor was back in his red eyes. “ _Silver Blaze._  I know where it’s from.”

“Yes, what is it?” Kirigiri walked over to him and stared him straight in the eye. “Tell me.  _Now._ ”

“I-It’s a case,” the prefect answered. “It the title of a case that I read about a few years ago.”

“What case? I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“Not an actual case, just… It’s a case from  _The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes._ ”

Kirigiri took a step back and swayed slightly on her feet. A look of pure terror crossed her face as she turned quickly to stare at the message again. She tried to go back to her usual calm, but her shoulders shook and her hands clenched at her sides and all this went by unnoticed by all except one Makoto Naegi.

“Kirigiri?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s me,” she said, gasping. “The message is for  _me._ ”

Kirigiri stared at the four pairs of eyes trained on her, hardened her gaze, and stormed out of the room.

 

 

Naegi followed her, demanding an explanation. “Kirigiri, wait up!” She kept walking, not paying him any mind. “The message is for you! What does it mean?”

“Leave me alone to think, Naegi. Just leave me alone.” 

“Please. If this killing somehow concerns you then there’s no way I can just leave this alone.”

She stopped walking and turned around. “How long do you plan to keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“You, following me around, making it seem like you’re interested.”

Naegi didn’t know why, but the remarked made him somewhat angry. “Someone just  _died._  Someone we know. Someone  _you_  know. I don’t mean to be rude, but please don’t make this about you.”

For once, it seemed that she was stunned silent by his words.

“You won’t want to hear what I think,” she said after a while, referring to the case now. “So I suggest you leave me be.”

“At least just tell me what that stupid message was about!”

Kirigiri shoved her hand in the pocket of her blazer and took out a crumpled note. She handed it to him. “I received that a few days ago. Presumably from the killer.”

_I know who you are, little Sherlock._

“So the killer knows who you are?” Naegi felt his heart suddenly beat a lot faster. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

“The killer knows me and wants to meet me. That body in there wasn’t just a message, Naegi. It was a calling. She’s trying to summon me.”

“What do you mean by ‘summon’?”

“Think! Of all the people to be killed, why did it have to be Inuzuka? It’s simple. Because he was the detective assigned and he wasn’t the detective she wanted. She killed him and sent me that message because she wants  _me_  to take the challenge. Do you understand now?”

Naegi nodded, realizing now the severity of the situation. Apparently this _was_  about Kirigiri after all. “But what do you mean by the killer is a student here? Why do you say that?”

She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to meet his gaze. “This is what I’m afraid to tell you. Look at all the clues. She’s here, Naegi.”

“What are you talking about? What are you saying?” He yelled, even though he knew where she was going with this already. “And since when did you start referring to the killer as a ‘she’?”

“The written note. Trying to summon me with a dead body. The dead body being transferred to Hope’s Peak. The cause of death being a gunshot, and not just any gunshot, but one that needed extreme skills in order to be pulled off and get away with. The poison itself was stolen from a  _military_ facility. Put it all together! It’s becoming extremely clear now.”

“It’s not her! I don’t care what you think! Ikusaba is  _not_  the killer!” He pointed a finger at her accusingly. “I can’t believe this. How can you think this of your own friend?”

“It is the job of a detective to be suspicious of everyone without bias,” she replied calmly and in the same emotionless tone that only angered him more. “Your faith in other people is blinding you once again from the truth.”

“I’m not being blinded, I’m being reasonable! Ikusaba would never kill anyone.”

“Believe what you like. I’m going to investigate the actual crime scene.” Kirigiri started to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist to stop him.

“I’m coming with you. I’ll prove to you it’s not her. I swear.”

“Things will be different now, Naegi. Are you sure about this?”

“We already went to investigate a murder before. Why should it be any different now?”

Kirigiri pulled her arm away from his grip. A sly smile appeared on her face. For whatever reason, Naegi didn’t know.

“Because I’m taking over the Sagittarii Killings case. I will be replacing Detective Inuzuka. I will find this killer myself, and when I do I will take her down with my bare hands.”

 

 

Ishimaru stared at his classmates. To him it seemed like he was looking at everything with a new pair of eyes.

Oowada tapped on his shoulder. “You okay, man?”

He shook his head. “This is unacceptable! This cannot be true!”

The whole class had been transferred to another classroom. The headmaster told everyone that the usual room was being renovated, and all the others remained blissfully unaware.

“Calm down, Ishi. That purple chick’s on the case. I’m sure it’ll be over soon.”

“Calm down?” Ishimaru stood up and yelled. “How could you expect me to calm down when there is a murderer amongst us?” He flailed his arms wildly in the air.

“Keep your voice down—”

“In fact, who’s to say there’s just one? Are there any  _other_  serial killers in this room that I should know about?”

Behind him, Touko Fukawa let out a loud shriek as several books fell out of her grasp and onto the floor. Oowada stood up and picked up the stuff for her. The flustered bookworm averted their gazes and walked away briskly.

“Way to go, man,” Oowada drawled sarcastically. “You just frightened the poor girl to hell and back. Use your inside voice next time, a’ight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving kudos and comments would really make me happy! ^.^
> 
> Also, I still have a tumblr
> 
> leanncar.tumblr.com
> 
> I have more ishimondo fics there that I don't post here so you might be interested >.


	19. Hello Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naegi and Kirigiri continue their investigation. Ishimaru and Oowada take a walk.

Makoto Naegi stared dauntingly up at the three-storey building in front of him and he wondered what on earth he was there for exactly. Kirigiri stood a few feet before him, eyes already surveying every detail that could be taken in. He wished he could be as observant as her, but he was probably too dumb for that. “Kirigiri,” he called here before she disappeared into her own musings and forgot his existence entirely, “What are we doing here?”

The detective made no reply. She probably was still mad at him, so he didn’t push it. It was just so wrong for her to insinuate that Ikusaba was the Sagittarii Killer. It made no sense! He can’t believe that Kirigiri was upset over him believing in the innocence of a friend.

He may not be an expert detective, nor does he have any special talents that set him apart from the rest like all the kids he went to school with on a daily basis, but he does have extreme faith, optimism, and good intuition.

He also had common sense which, sadly, was more than what he can say for about half of his class.

And what skills he does have all tell him that there was something very fishy about the murder of Detective Inuzuka, and he feared that Kirigiri may be walking straight into a trap. He better stay close to her to make sure she’s safe.

Kirigiri started walking, so he followed her. Upon entering the building, Naegi suddenly worried that there might be other people in there and he had no idea how they would explain themselves should questions about two kids who should be in school inside an apartment complex arise. Luckily, though, they encountered no such thing. The entrance hall was deserted and there were no signs of other people even as they climbed up a flight of stairs. The halls were lined with doors that led to what Naegi assumed to be living quarters of some sort. The walls of the building were gray and faded and the sound of their footsteps echoed loudly through the empty hallways. Other than that, there was deathly silence.

They climbed up to the top floor. On this floor, there was only one door and it looked more beat up than all the other doors they had seen. It was definitely a strange place for a person to live in, but hey, to each their own he guessed.

There was a dark plate on the door and he stepped closer so that he can make out the faded and barely coherent print. _KOU INUZUKA, POLICE DETECTIVE._

“He was an odd man,” Kirigiri supplied his confusion. Her hand settled on the doorknob. “He wanted to have an office that was perfectly secluded from anything else. This old building is abandoned, but he made a home out of it somehow.”

Naegi nodded in understanding and held his breath as the purple-haired detective opened the door to what was now apparently a dead man’s home.

The scent of blood, alcohol, and old paper greeted them instantly upon entering the room. Naegi raked his eyes over the entire scene with bated breaths. It was sunny. _Too_ sunny. Especially for a room that had only one window in it. He surveyed the glass structure. The curtains framing the lone window in the room were wide open, letting in ample amounts of sunshine. The heat inside the room made him adjust his collar and he would have found this strange were it not for the fact that there was a huge gaping hole in the window, its pieces damaged with some barely hanging on to what was still sturdy and untouched. Pieces of shattered glass littered the space below it, reflecting the sunny streams to make for a scene so picturesque as they decorated the mass of splattered blood on the hardwood flooring.

There was no doubt about it. Detective Inuzuka was killed in this room.

“Look out the window,” Kirigiri said, kneeling down next to the blood splatter, “Tell me everything you see.”

Naegi followed her orders and took the few steps toward the window, stopping about a foot away from it. He tried to ignore the sound of crunching glass under his feet when he moved and focused on what she had told him to do. “There’s another building like this one, except it’s taller by one floor. I can’t see anything else.”

“Is the window facing the road or the side?”

“Side. What I’m looking at is the building next to this one, I think.”

“Ah.” And she left it at that.

Naegi frowned at her lack of a proper response and kept his eyes trained out the window. It was evident that she was doing this, keeping information from him, to annoy him. And he wished so strongly he’d have something against her too. “You said he was shot, right? There’s a window in this other building that’s directly aligned with this one. It’s possible that the killer could’ve fired from there.”

“That’s very astute, Naegi. Now tell me, what exactly is that other building?”

“It’s…” he paused and let out a groan. Why did she have to be so adamant about gaining the upperhand in this stupid fight? “I don’t know what it is.”

“Oh?” He wasn’t looking at her, but the manner in which she spoke made it easy for him to picture what she must have looked like at that moment. “You mean you didn’t check what it was before we went in here?”

“No,” he replied curtly. He was starting to get irritated now. “I assume it’s another apartment complex like this one.”

“It’s a retirement home,” she replied and he could hear the teasing in her tone. “Unless you want to accuse two seventy-year-olds playing Bingo of firing an expertly done kill shot, I highly advise you to reconsider your hypothesis.”

His frown deepened. This person wasn’t Kirigiri. It looked like her and sounded like her, but it didn’t talk like her and act like her. What was going on? For now, he had no idea, and the picture was becoming blurrier by the minute. But he swore he will get to the bottom of this, find out where the real Kirigiri disappeared off to and if he could get her back.

“What’s your suggestion, then?” Naegi said. If she wasn’t having any of his theories, it was only fair for him to challenge hers. “It’s obvious that he wasn’t shot from inside this room. There would have at least been some signs of a struggle, but there isn’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I already have evidence that he was shot from over a distance.”

“Then what _are_ you saying?”

“Naegi, calm down. Your anger will get you nowhere in this investigation.”

He glared at the window from the building across and struggled to keep himself from yelling again. “It’s certainly better than keeping my emotions bottled up all the time.”

The pair settled in silence after that. The tension in the air was so thick even as they tried to work together smoothly like in their previous investigation, but there was something wrong now. Something had been damaged between them and Naegi wished he knew how to fix it.

He circled the entire room, taking in what he can from all that he saw. He was still no expert detective and there was nothing in the room that stood out to him as having been related to the murder. He kept looking anyway, and his perception was channeled into something rather different than what Kirigiri would probably take in: Kou Inuzuka himself.

Despite being a professional’s office, the room was littered with bottles of alcohol of different kinds, all opened and nearly depleted. He thought of Inuzuka and what he might have thought in his last moments. Did he miss his family? Did he enjoy his job?

He took another sweeping glance at the entire room and concluded that no, the lonely alcoholic detective probably didn’t miss anyone. To him, death must have been a kindness.

He sneaked a glance at Kirigiri, who was still surveying the blood splatter. His insides filled up with dread as it occurred to him that it was entirely probable for her to turn out the same way.

She stood up and straightened her skirt. “I have enough information now. We can leave.”

“Already? Do you even know how he got killed or where the killer was hiding?”

Kirigiri walked towards the broken window, her long purple hair swaying behind her and reflecting streams of sunlight. She craned her neck upwards and pointed at the top of the other building. “There.” He walked closer to see what she was pointing at.

“The rooftop?”

She nodded. “The killer fired from up there, through this window, and finally, to the victim. The laceration on his neck implied that the bullet had been fired from an upward angle.”

Naegi let out a low whistle. “That’s quite a shot. But even so, it’s impossible for no one else to have heard it. There are loads of people in this street alone. I think they’d have noticed it if someone fired a gun.”

“The killer could have used a silencer.”

“No,” he stood his ground, not intending to back down when he knew he had a point. “Even with a silencer, guns are still as loud as a jackhammer. And if a sound like that was heard in the middle of the night with no construction sites nearby, it certainly would’ve raised some suspicion!”

Their gazes locked for a heated moment, then Kirigiri spoke.

“Well done, Naegi. You are turning into a real investigator now. I must say I’m very impressed.” She smiled, but he tried his best not to let it get to him. It’s a trick, he told himself. She was playing him, wanting him to take the bait. He groaned in frustration.

“That’s not the point!” he exclaimed, still very much confused as to why she was acting this way. “You are _brilliant,_ Kirigiri. I don’t have brains that equal to half of yours. You already know all the stuff that I just said. It’s impossible for you not to. So tell me,” He took a few steps closer to her and fixed her with a hard gaze. “What. Are. You. Hiding?”

Her own expression did not falter, not that he expected it to. She smiled again and it was hard for him to decipher the meaning behind that smile. It was nothing he’d ever seen before. “You forgot there had been a thunderstorm last night,” she said.

Naegi was baffled by the statement for a moment and then, as if all the fears in his head suddenly clicked, he gasped at the realization of what this gifted detective was implying.

“Y-you don’t mean… The killer masked the gunshot with the sound of thunder, do you?” He took a couple of seconds to get his mind around the incredulous statement. “No way. That would take like a million tries. A shot like that… It’s just impossible.”

Kirigiri kept her sly smile and there was a wicked gleam in her eyes that he’d never seen on her before. Like she was… satisfied. Like she was _enjoying_ it.

He knew right then that he had lost their battle a long time ago.

“The thing is, Naegi-kun,” she said his name sweetly, and it brought shivers down his spine. “You should know by now that nothing is impossible for the Super High School Level Soldier.”

 

 

“Alright! To recap, the particle’s velocity is the derivative of its distance, and the acceleration is the derivative of its velocity. Did you get that?”

Kiyotaka Ishimaru set down his math book in order to get a look at Oowada, who surprisingly, was listening intently at what he was saying. They were sat on the floor of Oowada’s living area, just as they always had been. Although this day in particular was not like the others they have had before.

“Yeah, man, I got it,” the gang leader replied, “Can we do something fun now?”

“The exam is on Monday, Mondo. There is no time for fun. We have to study!”

“We’ve been studying for _centuries_! We should go out and celebrate our last tutoring session. Come on, Ishi. You deserve a break too.”

The hall monitor considered it for a moment. There really was nothing else for them to study that day, and discovering a dead body certainly shook him and made it harder to concentrate. He shook his head and released a sigh. “I’m not so sure. Rectilinear motion isn’t a topic to joke about, you know.”

“I told you, I totally got it,” Oowada reassured him, leaning back on the sofa and putting his arms behind his head. “Ask me a question. Go ahead. Hit me with your best shot.”

“Okay…” Ishimaru took a moment to think of what to ask and prayed silently that Oowada really would be as competent as he thought himself to be. He did want his kyoudai to do his best on the exam after all. “If a particle was shot upwards from on top of a building, and you were asked to look for the height of said building, which of the three functions should you use?”

The gang leader scratched his chin and shuffled his legs. His foot came up and bumped the table from underneath, causing the prefect to jump a little. “Uh… The position function. Solve for _s_ of zero. ‘Cause what you want is the position of the particle at zero seconds.”

Ishimaru opened his mouth, ready to correct, but he shut it again. “I…” he trailed off, stunned. “That was correct.”

“I am king.”

“Don’t be so smug yet. What if you were asked to solve for the particle’s maximum height?”

“Wait, you told me about this…” He tapped his fingers on the table and pursed his lips. “Velocity… is equated to zero, right? ‘Cause you want that split second where the particle loses its velocity as it reaches maximum height. And then, uh… Wait… I forgot.”

“You solve for _t_ and substitute that value for the position function,” Ishimaru supplied, obviously impressed. “I’m surprised you actually remembered all of those.”

Oowada shrugged. “It’s actually not that hard. Math’s a lot easier when I can imagine what I’m solving it _for_ , instead of like, graphs and shit.”

“Oh,” Ishimaru beamed and started laughing. “Then I’m really proud of you, kyoudai!”

Oowada rubbed the back of his neck, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “Can we get out of here now? I’ve been in this spot so long my butt’s imprinting itself on the floor.”

“Yes, of course!” The prefect replied, smiling. “Let me just collect my stuff.”

 

 

When the pair walked out of the Oowada household, the sun was still set in its afternoon routine, not quite ready to start creeping back below the horizon just yet. Oowada tried not to smile at this, at the thought of spending more time with Ishimaru without the presence of textbooks ruining his mood.

He began walking and Ishimaru followed a step behind him. “Where exactly are we going, kyoudai?” asked the prefect.

Oowada shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy pants. “You know what, I have no idea.”

“Hmm,” Ishimaru placed a hand under his chin in thought. “What do you suggest we do then?”

“You sound like a five-year-old trying to figure out what to do next in the kiddie playground.”

Oowada matched his steps with Ishimaru, going at a slower pace than he was used to, which was alright with him. A motorcycle sped past them and he glanced longingly at it. The owner was far from looking like the usual members of his gang and he let his shoulders relax. He still had no idea how to explain to his gang that he can’t ride his bike for a while. Though his excuse was reasonable enough, he knew they’d give him hell for letting something as lame as a doctor’s order hold him back.

Well, a doctor’s order _and_ a certain raven-haired hall monitor. Leaning more towards the latter, maybe, as he can be quite scary when need be.

They kept walking aimlessly, both just glad to be out enjoying the fresh air. Ishimaru told a lot of stories and Oowada tried to make it look like he was listening. It was hard, as he was so easily distracted by the stupidest things. He nodded along to the prefect’s stories and hoped that he didn’t suspect anything.

It didn’t take them long to realize that they had been walking towards the park where Oowada and Fujisaki always met up. Where Fujisaki told Ishimaru her biggest secret and where the gang leader first saw Ishimaru for the kind and brilliant man that he was. That had been so long ago, a memory tainted with rage and regrets. Something that Oowada sincerely hoped Ishimaru had already forgotten. The last thing he wanted was for Ishimaru to view him as a hot-tempered violent man who had no control over what he does. And it was dumb and selfish of him to be thinking that way when that was exactly the kind of man he was after all.

But as long as Ishimaru was by his side, everything else can go rot in hell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything more. It was as if Ishimaru came into his life just to show him how utterly meaningless was everything he’d given two shits about in the past. An absurd thought, but one he knew to be true.

Ishimaru sat down under a shady tree, his legs folded neatly underneath him and his spine perfectly straight. Oowada plopped down not so gracefully beside him and stretched his legs before him, crossing his ankles.

He glanced at the prefect, with his head hung low and eyes hooded and heavy. Ishimaru kept his gaze on the ground and pulled strings of grass between his fingers. To put it simply, he looked exhausted.

“Hey, man, are you alright?” Oowada asked, leaning close enough so that the tip of his pompadour brushed the prefect’s ear. “You don’t look so good.”

“I am fine, Mondo,” he said stiffly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s because of this morning, isn’t it? The dead body?”

Ishimaru froze and trained his big red eyes on Oowada. They really were quite big and pondering, and extremely easy to read.

“It’s okay to be freaked out about it. Heck, anyone would be if they discovered a dead person on their own.”

Ishimaru shook his head, biting his bottom lip. It was evident that something was bothering him. “It’s not the dead body. Well it is, but that’s not all of it.”

Oowada furrowed his brows, trying to understand what was going on in his best friend’s head. “You mean there’s more?”

“Hey, um, I’m gonna tell you another story and… Promise me you’ll listen this time,” he said softly, averting his gaze from Oowada’s. “I know you don’t really care much for my stories, but this one is kinda important.”

“Oh.” Oowada mentally slapped himself for having been so obvious. “Yeah, of course. I’ll pay attention this time. You have permission to punch me if you catch me drifting off.”

He had hoped the comment would make Ishimaru smile, but it was unsuccessful.

Ishimaru released a deep breath and nodded. “When I was a kid, I read this book about the most remarkable politicians in the history of Asia. I was most interested in their lives. Their stories lulled me to sleep and gave me my own adventures in my dreams. It was quite the treat.” He leaned his back on the tree bark they’d been resting on. Oowada nodded to show that he was still listening. He continued talking. “Stories of men and women, from humble beginnings to the peak of their glory days. I wanted nothing more than to become just like them.

“But, of course, not all of them were happy. Some ended in tragedy. There were quite a few of that, and I usually didn’t think much of them. I only told myself that I shall remain true in my integrity and keep working hard so that I don’t become them. So that their downfall will not be mine. Those were easy to avoid after all.” He paused to glance at the setting sun. He waited for them to become shrouded entirely in darkness before speaking again. “But there was one exception. He was a brilliant man who loved to serve his country very much. And during the time he was elected a senator in the office, his country had been under the rule of a ruthless dictator and everybody lived in fear of him. The man, though, he promised the people that he will do something about it, to let democracy win once again. And everyone clung to that promise even after he was exiled to the United States as the president considered him a grave threat.

“While he was in the States, he didn’t stop. He promised the people he’d be back and that he’d run for president and defeat the dictator. Everyone supported him and loved him dearly. When he announced his intent to return to his country, the dictator nullified his passport, but he didn’t give up and went under a different name to bypass security, and he was able to get on that plane headed to his home country.”

“And then what happened?” Oowada felt the need to speak, not just to let him know that he was listening, but because he feared Ishimaru would end the story there and he did want to know what happened next. “Did the plane crash or something? That’s why it was tragic?”

Ishimaru stared straight at him and he wondered how anyone could manage to look so sad. “No, he… The plane was able to land safely. And he was greeted by thousands of people, people who looked up to him as the sole hope for an entire nation. The man that will save them from corruption and oppression. And he, the man, the moment he stepped out of the plane… Someone… shot him… and he fell off the tarmac and onto the ground. And everyone looked on in shock at their fallen hope, face down and unmoving, clad in all white.”

He stopped talking again. Oowada looked at Ishimaru, who was clad in his white coat and white pants and suddenly found it hard to breathe. 

“Everyday I work hard and strive for excellence in order to be successful in my future and raise my family out of debt,” Ishimaru said, his voice breaking, “But the story of that one man in all white taught me how easily all that can be taken from me in just a split second. I can work as hard as I like, but I am still frail and vulnerable. And after that, what? The man in all white, to this day they still don’t even know who killed him. And oh god, I don’t even remember that man’s _name._ ”

“That is…” Oowada gulped, having been rendered speechless by Ishimaru’s little ‘story’. “That’s awful.”

“I haven’t thought about it in a while but… This morning, I was reminded once again how easily everything you’ve worked hard for can be swept away.” He folded his knees and hugged them to his chest as his raven hair blended with the dark hues of the sky. “Detective Inuzuka, wasn’t it? That was his name? What do you think he was like? Did he always want to be a detective, or maybe something else? What was his biggest goal in life? I wish he’d been able to achieve it.”

“He seems familiar. I think I’ve seen him from somewhere, I just can’t remember for the life of me where.”

“From the papers, maybe? He was a very gifted detective, after all,” Ishimaru suggested, “Inuzuka. I will never… I’ll never forget that name.”

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna be like Inuzuka, or the man in white, or anybody else,” Oowada said seriously. “You’re gonna be you. And you’re gonna be brilliant. You’re gonna be better than all of them combined.”

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“Because none of that shit will happen to you. Not if I have anything to say about it. It’s a man’s promise.”

Ishimaru sat still, stunned. “I… What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m going to protect you, whatever it takes.”

“That is sweet,” Ishimaru said, smiling, “But it’s also unnecessary.”

“Ishi.” Oowada leaned closer and flicked Ishimaru’s forehead with his forefinger. “I made a promise, so there’s nothing you can do about that.”

“Like the promise you made to Chihiro?”

Oowada froze, not expecting that reply. “So what if it is like that?”

Ishimaru frowned at him. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to protect me _or_ Chihiro. When are you going to realize that?”

“Don’t judge me for that. You can judge me for anything else but not for that.” Their gazes were locked intently as Oowada spoke. “You don’t understand. This is something that I have to do for—”

“For Daiya, right? Because you just have to be him, don’t you?” Ishimaru said, but his tone wasn’t bitter or scolding. It was as gentle as the cool night air that surrounded them. “You’re not obligated to carry on what he left off. You have your own life too.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To his surprise, Ishimaru put a hand on his cheek, his thumb making soothing circles on his cheekbone. The gesture calmed him down considerably.

“Mondo, you aren’t some Daiya carbon copy. What you’re doing right now, it’s all him and no you.” Ishimaru’s eyes were red. So, _so_ red and they consumed his entire vision. He allowed himself to be drawn in by the prefect’s soft expression, feeling the whistling of the wind around them. “What I’m saying is, I think Mondo Oowada is a much better person all by himself, and not when he’s pretending to be someone he’s not. I like that Mondo Oowada. I like him very much.”

The gang leader had no idea what to make of his little speech, and Ishimaru’s face was so close that it would be too easy to close the remaining distance between them and kiss him. Just kiss him, damn it!

But Ishimaru was already pulling away from him, out of his reach, breaking the trance that so thoroughly captivated his thoughts just moments before. He stood up and stretched. “It’s getting late, kyoudai. We must be heading home now!”

Nodding and still unable to speak, Oowada stood up and they began to walk back. “I’ll walk with you to your house,” he said.

Ishimaru smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

Ishimaru’s house was farther from the park than Oowada’s, but the gang leader didn’t mind. He’d always been curious about where Ishimaru lived, and now he was finally going to find out.

As they walked through the night air, Ishimaru didn’t tell any more stories and Oowada didn’t get distracted by any more motorcycles. Instead, he was distracted by the faint brushing of their hands as they swung with their steps.

Finally, Ishimaru stopped walking and turned to him. Oowada allowed himself to relax when he saw that the prefect was smiling. “This is my house. I’m gonna go head in now since my mother’s probably worried about me. I don’t usually come home this late.”

Oowada nodded, trying to look cool as he feigned nonchalance. “Yeah, man. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Ishimaru’s red eyes stood out even more in the dark, and they appeared to be much brighter when he was smiling. “I had a lot of fun on our date today, Mondo!”

Oowada’s facade of coolness broke when his jaw unhinged rather ungracefully. “W-what?”

“You know! When two people go out alone and talk about serious things and enjoy each other’s company, that is how a date works, right?” 

“I-I, uhh…”

Ishimaru glanced at his house and sighed. “Well, I really do need to get back home now. Thank you, Mondo.”

Oowada followed the prefect’s form as he walked away and eventually disappeared behind the front door of a modest two-storey home. A light came on from one of the windows. He tried to get himself to move but his feet simply refuse to lift themselves from the ground.

Ishimaru had thought they were on a date, and he was okay with it. That had to be one of the most embarrassing moments in Oowada’s life.

Thinking of Ishimaru’s bright red eyes as he turned in the direction of his own house, he decided to stop fucking around. He’d done enough bullshit already. It’s time he do something different.

He was going to ask Ishimaru out on a real date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of the man in white is true, by the way, in case you're interested.


	20. Divine Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondo finds comfort in the forces of divine intervention.

Monday morning came around and we see our gang in their usual table at the Hope’s Peak cafeteria. As usual, they sat together, sans Ikusaba. They ate their usual food and wore their usual clothes. Everything was in perfect repetition of how they’d always done things except for one key factor: The thick tension that settled on them.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru, never one for proper socialization, was oblivious to this and kept talking as if nothing was out of place. “How did the math exam go, Mondo?” He asked as he took a bite from his sandwich.

The gang leader that was seated next to him made a noncommittal grunt in response. “I don’t know. I don’t even remember what shit was in there.”

Ishimaru frowned, ready to scold. “You should take these exams more seriously, kyoudai!”

“Yeah, but I just can’t _care,_ ” Mondo tried to justify. “It’s just who I am. I don’t care.”

The prefect sighed at his best friend’s usual antics. There really was no changing him. “That response doesn’t make me feel better at all.”

“Just relax, alright? Save your worries for when we see the results.”

Ishimaru nodded. “In any case, I’m glad now that our tutoring sessions are over, Chihiro and I can finally finish up on our English project.” He turned to the programmer who had her gaze set elsewhere. “Hey, Chihiro, should I come by your house this afternoon?”

Fujisaki made no reply. It didn’t even seem like she heard him.

“Eh, Chi…” Oowada snapped his fingers directly at Fujisaki’s face and she jumped in her seat.

She shook her head as if getting rid of a trance. “Oh! Uh, yes? I mean, what was that?” 

“I just asked you if I should come by your house later to work on the play,” Ishimaru said.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, smiling. “Uhh… Did you guys happen to notice something different today?”

Ishimaru and Oowada turned to each other and shrugged. “Nothing in particular,” said Oowada.

Fujisaki slapped a hand to her forehead. “Of course. Why did I expect you two to notice?”

“Hey, man, what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I meant that you guys are always in your own little bubble and you almost never notice anything that’s going on outside that,” Fujisaki said and flashed them a knowing smile, “You lovebirds didn’t even notice that something’s obviously going on with Kirigiri-san and Naegi-kun.”

Oowada glanced at the two mentioned classmates, choosing to ignore her ‘lovebirds’ comment. Naegi and Kirigiri sat outside of earshot and they ate their food quietly and seemed to be avoiding the other’s gaze. Now that Fujisaki mentioned it, those two have been acting weird lately. Kirigiri wasn’t a talkative person, but he did spot her telling Naegi some stories on several occasions. There was none of that now.

“Wow, Chihiro, you’re right,” Ishimaru remarked, apparently observing the same things that Oowada did, “How do you notice these things?”

Fujisaki beamed. “I’m just a people person. I can fix this. Watch.” Placing a hand under her chin, she hummed, causing the heads of the two people under suspicion to turn to her. “May I just ask how the investigation of Mister Inuzuka’s murder is going?”

Kirigiri looked at her with her signature steel gaze and Naegi fidgeted in his seat.

Fujisaki faltered suddenly and let out an awkward laugh. “Ahhh, not so well, I guess.”

“Way to go, Chihiro!” Ishimaru yell-whispered in a non-sarcastic manner, much to Mondo’s secondhand embarrassment. “I am truly learning from a people person! I wish I’ve taken notes.”

Kirigiri kept her gaze for a few more seconds before it softened, much to Fujisaki’s surprise. To be honest, even Oowada got frightened by that cold stare. She glanced briefly at Naegi before speaking. “Actually, it’s coming along nicely. We’ve investigated the victim’s office yesterday and were able to figure out many things about the murderer.”

“That’s great!” Fujisaki chimed. “I hope all the rest goes on this smoothly so we can finally have this mean killer apprehended.”

“Yes, murder is definitely not welcome in a school environment,” said Ishimaru, nodding. “This person deserves to be punished severely for their crimes!”

Oowada pounded his fist on the table. “Yeah! And rot behind bars!”

None of them noticed Naegi cringing from where he sat.

“I’m afraid the case will not be that simple,” Kirigiri said. “Even if we’ve managed to identify the killer, there’s still the challenge of capturing the killer.”

“And you haven’t even been able to do the first part yet, Kirigiri-san,” Naegi piped up politely, but there was a slight snideness in his tone.

Kirigiri frowned at him. “This is where you and I do not agree, Naegi-kun. Maybe if you just listened to the evidence, you’ll begin to see reason.” She shook her head slowly. “I had high hopes for you. I am very disappointed.”

Naegi made no reply.

The other three who had witnessed this short interaction looked at one another in confusion. Kirigiri spoke once again.

“Which reminds me, I haven’t been able to ask you about your accounts in discovering the body, Ishimaru-kun. Will you enlighten me? After all, it’s usually protocol to suspect the discoverer as being the killer or the killer’s accomplice unless proven otherwise.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ishimaru said, “I always go to school an hour earlier than usual. I walked in and there it was and I was too shocked to do anything. I admit, my actions do seem suspicious but I’m putting in my word that I didn’t do anything besides discovering the body.”

Kirigiri nodded. “Yes. You don’t seem connected to the killer in any way, so I believe you. Oowada-kun, what is your account?”

“I went in with Chi and we saw Ishi there and that was it,” Mondo shrugged. “But the dead guy, Inuzuka? I get this strange sense that I’ve seen him before. And no, it’s not in the papers like Ishimaru suggested. It’s… something else. I have the feeling it’s important.”

Kirigiri’s gaze turned sharp at this. “Noted. Alert me immediately if you remember, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s not her,” Naegi interrupted in a harsh tone. “You can throw at me any evidence you want, I still won’t believe that it’s her.”

Fujisaki, Ishimaru, and Oowada all shot him confused looks.

Naegi stood up. “I can’t stand this. I’ll see you guys later.” He pushed back his chair and exited the cafeteria.

“What’s his problem?” asked Oowada.

“Nothing,” Kirigiri said, her tone implying that she knew something all the others didn’t. “He has his hopes too high, and it blocks his view of what is right in front of him. This is why I try to avoid hope as much as possible.”

 

 

Chihiro Fujisaki’s house was a thing of beauty. One look and you’d know just how much money her family had. The living area was incredibly large with its walls painted a dark sophisticated blue and the floor ladened with plush carpeting. Ishimaru stared in wonder at the expensive-looking knick-knacks that littered the wooden shelves pushed up against the walls, below them a long line of various books. Ishimaru stared at them longingly.

“Do you like to read, Ishimaru-kun?” Fujisaki asked. The prefect turned back to her, pink staining his cheeks at being caught looking. He nodded. “I used to read a lot of books. Not so much anymore, though,” he replied.

The pair settled down on the floor and brought out their books. Ishimaru of course, had not forgotten about the project and he was already done with the first draft. He only needed Fujisaki’s input in the revision process and other details in finalizing it.

They remained like that for the next half hour, working in unison. Fujisaki was much more cooperative than Oowada, which was a huge relief for him. Every once in a while, though, he can’t help but be distracted by the framed family photos that hung on the walls of the room.

“Chihiro,” he said during a pause in their discussion, “You have a younger brother?”

She nodded. “He’s only two-years-old, but he’s pretty smart for his age.”

“Oh?”

“He can already count to a hundred and I’ve taught him how to use a computer. He really enjoys it!"

Ishimaru smiled. “He sounds like a bright kid, Chihiro.”

“He is! I love him a lot.”

“And your parents? What do they do?”

Fujisaki placed her chin on her hand, her short hair bobbing with the movement of her head. She blew up at a few strands of hair that went to block her eyes and beamed. “My parents are lawyers. Nothing so special, just regular family lawyers. They handle divorces and stuff like custody rights and all that. I don’t know any of the specifics.”

“That sounds nice.”

Fujisaki brows furrowed. “You think it’s nice that my parents’ job is to legally separate couples for life?”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” the prefect stuttered.

Fujisaki laughed. “Nah, I was just messing with you.”

Ishimaru had to blink twice at that, just to make sure it was still Fujisaki he was talking to. There were few short moments when he could’ve sworn that it was Oowada instead. His mind went still as he thought about just how much the two were actually alike.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. “One minute!” Fujisaki called out and she got up to answer the door.

“Let me in, Chi!” Even muffled by the wooden door, Ishimaru recognized the voice instantly as Oowada’s. “There can’t be a party without me in there!”

When Fujisaki opened the door, Oowada entered the room without any hesitation. He shot her a smile and his eyes swept the entire room until they landed on Ishimaru. “Hey.”

“H-hey,” Ishimaru replied. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What? Sure I am!” Oowada flopped down on the floor beside Ishimaru, bumping into his shoulder. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

Oowada looked to be in a good mood, with his confident nature and easygoing smile. Ishimaru did notice that he’d changed recently and he wondered what was the cause of it. In any case, he was glad that his kyoudai looked a lot happier.

“It’s not that I’m not glad to see you,” he began, licking his suddenly dry lips. Oowada’s purple eyes bored intently into his. “Chihiro and I are working on our project right now and I don’t think you’ll enjoy it since it has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re my two best friends! How can it _not_ have anything to do with me?” Oowada leaned back on his elbows so that he had to strain his neck to keep eye contact.

Fujisaki shook her head and smiled. “It’s fine, Ishimaru. He can stay.”

“No, no. I honestly don’t think we can focus with him around,”

“Hey!” Oowada sat back up, offended. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s really alright!” Fujisaki said again, “Wouldn’t you rather he stay here so you two can be together?”

At this, Oowada stiffened suddenly and shot the programmer a hard glare. For what reason, Ishimaru had no idea. Must be one of those telepathic things that only best friends had.

“There’s something wrong with you being here, Mondo,” said the hall monitor. He stood up on his feet and gestured for Oowada to get up too. The gang leader only stared at him stubbornly. 

Ishimaru released a sigh, placed his hands under Oowada’s arms, and hoisted him up easily on two feet. Fujisaki looked at the two, her jaw dropped. 

Oowada had the same reaction. “Wh-whaa? How did you—”

Ishimaru slapped a piece of paper on his pompadour. “What about _your_ English project, kyoudai? How is that going?”

Oowada snorted. “Relax, Ishi. Yamada’s a writer. He’s got this in the bag.”

Ishimaru punched his arm playfully. Oowada winced. “Yamada-kun is a doujin writer!”

“They’re basically the same thing!"

He threw another punch. “Doujins are _nothing_ like plays! Go on and call him so you can work on your project!”

Oowada rubbed his arm, frowning. “Yeah, sure, fine. Since I’m obviously not wanted here.” He gave a short wave to Fujisaki as he walked back to the front door, Ishimaru in tow.

“I do this because I care about your grades, kyoudai!” Ishimaru said to him with a big smile on his face. Oowada stared at him for a few seconds and the prefect thought he was going to say something, but he averted his gaze to the ground.

“So, uh, have fun?” Oowada said awkwardly. He was blushing for some reason.

Ishimaru nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, kyoudai! We sure will!” He stood on his tiptoes and placed a quick peck on Oowada’s cheek.

Oowada’s mouth gaped open and close like a fish out of water, his purple eyes wide with shock. “I… I-I, uhh…”

“See you at school!” Ishimaru pushed him out and closed the door. 

He turned back to Fujisaki, who had a big dopey smile on her face. “Ishimaru!” she said, followed by a long and loud squeal.

The hall monitor observed his project partner with extreme confusion and slight amusement and shrugged. He will probably never understand how social interactions worked. 

 

 

Sleep was one of Mondo Oowada’s greatest gifts. He loved sleeping, and he could usually do it all throughout the day. He slept in classes, in libraries, in shopping malls, while waiting in line, and on one occasion when Ishimaru droned on about some topic that he really didn’t care about. Needless to say, he got quite the scolding that day. 

He was a bundle of energy and he exerted that to the fullest during the most sporadic times and the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d go straight to sleep. Many times he thought to himself he probably should have the title of SHSL Sleeper instead of Gang Leader. Now there was a label that was much easier to live up to.

Because sleep was great and blissful. And he was damn good at it.

So why was it that he was tossing and turning on his bed that night, his mind not willing him to get even one wink of it?

Oowada sat up on his bed and let out a loud groan. The room was completely dark and he couldn’t see a thing, not even a slight silhouette of his own hand when he let it hover a few inches from his face. This was crazy. He was exhausted, he knew it, and he’d been looking forward to sleep the entire afternoon, but when he finally got to his bed his mind just refused to let it come to him.

Instead, his mind conjured images of a pair of familiar bright red eyes.

Oowada stood up and walked in the direction of the door. He tripped on a piece of clothing that he’d left on the floor and he couldn’t even be bothered to stop himself from falling nor shield himself from the impact. He just flopped facedown on the ground like a miserable kid.

He was going mad.

“I’m going mad,” he said out loud just so he can start getting used to it.

He stood up again and spoke to no one. “I am mad. I’m insane. Ah, it was only a matter of time.”

He wondered what will happen to him, now that he’d gone bonkers. Will he be allowed to carry on socializing as normal or would he get locked up in a mental institution? He shuddered. Those straitjackets better not be itchy.

He wondered if Ishimaru will visit him in the mental hospital and dismissed the thought completely. He’d be ashamed of having a best friend that was insane. But then again, he proved himself to be loyal so far no matter what crazy shenanigans Oowada got himself into. Still, it was probably best if he didn’t get his hopes up.

He walked to his mirror even though he could barely make out his own reflection in it. This was what people did, right? They looked at themselves in the mirror and try to pep talk their way out of insanity. At least, that’s what they did in the movies. Maybe it’ll help him, too. It was worth a shot.

“Hello, dumbass,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as it pierced the silence of the room, “You were supposed to ask him out earlier, but you chickened out and then he kissed you. And you gaped at him like a fucking nerd. God, you’re lame.”

That certainly made him feel a lot better.

_Not._

He continued to speak anyway. He might already be on the edge of insanity, might as well plunge all the way through. “Whatever you do, don’t fuck this up. You’ve fucked up way too many times already, but this is the one thing you must never ever fuck up, alright? Are we clear on that, Mondo Oowada?”

He cringed. He sounded exactly like Ishimaru at that last part.

“Anyway, yeah, he probably doesn’t like you like that, but nothing hurts to try, right? After that, you can probably just play it cool and shit because it’s not a big deal.”

He gulped. It was so a big deal. He had no idea why he still felt the need to lie to his own reflection.

“Wow, I really am stupid,” he continued, grabbing a jacket from the floor and putting it on. “What I’m about to do right now, it’s probably the stupidest thing I’ll ever do in my life.”

He ran out of his house and took to the streets in just a loose hoodie, pajama bottoms, and thin black socks. It was most probably almost midnight, but there was nothing about it that scared him. He followed the pavement, feeling each groove and stone on the ground under his feet and it was uncomfortable, but bearable.

He stopped when he reached Ishimaru’s house. He stood there, unmoving, unblinking. 

“ _Okaaaay_ ,” he muttered to himself as he stared up at the dark two-storey home before him. “What the hell do I do now?”

The prospect of coming up to someone else’s house in the middle of the night seemed so romantic in the movies, but now that he was living it he wasn’t quite so sure. He was hoping the earth would send him some supernatural sign or something, but instead he was met with the rustling of leaves in the distance and an unnerving silence. The fact that his heart was beating erratically did nothing to remedy the situation. What exactly did he hope to accomplish with this?

He sat down on the grass and ran his fingers through his long hair, currently free from the constraints of the pompadour he so dearly loved to style it in. Never had the night been so uncomfortable to him. Usually it was his element. The darkness was his servant, during those times that he used it to conceal him and his gang from the craziness they were up to. He’d always thought of the night as a friend, but now it seemed it was mocking him.

Maybe he should try to get Ishimaru’s attention? He could try throwing something at his bedroom window. Like a brick, maybe.

On second thought, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

Damn, why the hell didn’t he just call Ishimaru on the phone like a normal person? This was completely idiotic.

The grass prickled his skin and gave him the urge to scratch but he ignored it. His mind was racing with only the most ridiculous ideas that never really amounted to anything useful. He cursed at the ground and tugged at his hair.

“It’s awfully cold out here, wouldn’t you prefer to stay indoors?” A warm, feminine voice met his ears and he heard footsteps approaching him, closer and closer until they came next to him, and the person that spoke sat down next to him. He never lifted his gaze from the ground through all this.

Oowada made a grunt in reply.

He could feel the woman’s presence just inches from him. Maybe she lived nearby and couldn’t sleep either. Or maybe Oowada really was crazy and she was just a figment of his imagination. “You look lonely,” said the woman, “And you need some company.”

“How do you know? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I see that look all the time on my son and I know exactly what it means.” Her voice sounded calm and peaceful, as if a dozen little birds could go and make a home in it because it was so warm and sweet and so… motherly. Yeah, that made sense.

He snuck a glance at her. She had on a loose blue shirt and a thin frame with her dark hair falling over her shoulder, making a curtain to cover her face. She sat with her knees to her chest and palms dug into the ground. “You look the same,” Oowada said finally.

To his surprise, the woman giggled. “How lovely of you to notice.”

Oowada directed his gaze to the ground again, his thoughts returning to Ishimaru. He came here to do… something, but he ended up having a strange conversation with a strange woman instead. Maybe this was the divine intervention he’d been waiting for. He went along with whatever cosmic signals the universe had for him, mostly because he really can’t think of anything on his own.

“You lost someone,” said the woman again, her soothing voice like honey. “Who is it?”

“My brother.” He’d normally not want to talk about Daiya, but hey, this was divine intervention that was urging him, so he might as well try to be truthful. “He got into a motorcycle accident a while back. It was my fault.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“No, it really was. I’m the one who was supposed to die there, but he bumped into me to save me from that bus and I held his dying body in my arms and I was powerless to save him.”

“People who lost a loved one will always take the fault.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I lost someone too. And not a day goes by that I don’t blame myself for it.”

A cool breeze went by and brought about a chill with a slight bite to it. The woman shivered and wrapped her arms around her frame. Oowada took note and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took off his hoodie and placed it on the woman’s shoulders. She didn’t react. It didn’t look like she noticed. Oowada shrugged and rubbed his bare arms in an effort to generate warmth on his newly chilled skin.

“Well, uh,” Oowada said, tracing random patterns on the ground with his finger, “People who lost a loved one are really stupid, then.”

This caused the woman to let out a short-lived laugh. “Oh, yes, we definitely are.”

They sat in silence for a while. Oowada stared at the front door to Ishimaru’s house and wondered what it looked like beyond it. He wondered if he’d ever even find out.

“If you don’t mind me asking… ma’am… Who did you lose?” he asked, still unsure of what to make of the stranger.

She released a deep sigh. “My husband. And right now I’m losing my son, too. I can tell.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He’s an amazing boy and he’ll go places. He’ll leave me one day. He wants to leave me now, but he can’t do it.”

Oowada felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. “I’m sure that’s not what he wants. He won’t do that.”

“He’s growing up to be just like his father, of course he will,” she says fondly. “My only wish is that he knows how much I love him.”

“He does. Any person would be lucky to have a mother like you. Your son would be a total asshole not to know that,” he said, and he was surprised to find that he meant it too.

“I wish I could see it that way,” she sighed again. “By the way, I still don’t know what you’re doing out here in the first place.”

“Oh, um… You know, I just thought I’d talk to someone, but uhh… Yeah, that won’t be happening anytime soon.”

“Is it someone you like?”

He really would rather not talk about it, but he reminded himself that this woman was divine intervention, so he was practically obliged to tell the truth or the universe will curse him with seven years bad luck or something. His heart leapt in his throat as he struggled to come up with just a simple “Yeah…”

“That sounds wonderful,” the woman said, “Quite unpractical, but wonderful all the same. What’s she like?”

Oowada clenched his fists. This woman was divine intervention. Why did divine intervention have to be so nosy?

“Uh, no… He’s a dude.”

“I’m sorry. What’s he like?”

He could already feel his cheeks heating up. “He’s the lamest, loudest, most annoying nerd in the whole universe.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

“He is,” he replied, serious.

The woman looked up at the sky and Oowada was able to see her face now. It was pale white and lined with age and stress, but there was a certain charm to it, too, like she knew something that other people didn’t. Her eyes were closed as she revelled in the night breeze and she remained in that position even as she spoke again.

“I apologize for ruining your plan, then.”

“Nah, it’s probably for the best. I would’ve screwed up really bad if I went with it.”

She smiled. “‘Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires’. Ever heard of that?”

Oowada shook his head then, realizing that she couldn’t see him, he said “No, I haven’t.”

“Wise words from a wise man. It means that in love, timing is always important. Even if all the other elements are in place, even if he feels the same about you as you do to him, the right thing at the wrong time is still a wrong thing.”

Oowada let her words sink in. Her words. The words of divine intervention.

She returned him his hoodie and looked at him fully. Only then did he notice her pair of bright red eyes. “I sincerely hope you will be able to tell this person how you feel.”

Oowada gulped, feeling as if his insides shut down so suddenly. “Y-yeah… I-I hope I… I mean, I don’t want to… And I-uhh…”

She smiled again and stood up. “It was lovely to meet you. You seem like a nice person. And the next time I find you hanging out on my front lawn, I might even invite you inside.”

And she turned around and went inside the house. Ishimaru’s house. That was _her_ house. He’d just talked to Ishimaru’s _mom._

Oowada stared at the front door in shock. Divine intervention just screwed him up really bad.

 


	21. Stepping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondo finds out something about his project partner and it's… well, to put it lightly, it's fucking weird.

No day at Hope’s Peak would be complete without Mondo Oowada royally messing someone up. 

It wasn’t hard to choose a victim. He just picked someone who pissed him off for some reason. This day, it was unfortunate that it had to be a classmate of his.

Hifumi Yamada’s back hit the wall harshly, his bright orange tie scrunched up in Oowada’s tight fist. He opened his mouth to let out a scream but Oowada cut him off. “You make a sound and I’ll rip off your balls.”

Yamada nodded, not wanting to aggravate the gang leader. “What? What did I dooooo?”

Oowada frowned, his purple eyes drilling holes into Yamada’s face. “I… I’m coming by your house later. Ya got that?”

Yamada tilted his head in confusion. “What? Why?”

Oowada tugged on his tie and slammed him again on the wall. “That stupid English project, alright! We gotta—” his eyes darted to the side and his voice dropped to a whisper “—We gotta finish it.”

Yamada’s eyes widened. “O-oh! You mean we’re actually gonna work on it _together?_ “

The gang leader covered a hand to his mouth. “Keep your voice down, ya loser! Yeah, we’re gonna do it.”

“Oh.” Yamada peered up at the taller man and gulped. “Can you, uhh, can you let go of me, please?”

A sharp gasp came from behind them. “Mondo! What are you doing?”

Oowada turned to the source of the voice and found a seething Chihiro Fujisaki, her fists clenched. “Let go of him this instant!”

Oowada shot another glare at Yamada and took a step back, creating a foot of space between them. Yamada straightened his shirt and a peculiar gleam appeared in his eye.

“You, sir, should be honored to work with a genius like me!” He stated, pointing a finger at Oowada, who stared cross-eyed at it. “I do not normally like sharing credit for my artistic pursuits!” He grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Oowada scoffed. “Dude, it’s a fucking school project.”

“A school project that will be in the care of an artistic prodigy and a delinquent!” Yamada fixed the strap of his bag over his shoulder, not at all threatened by the glare that the gang leader was giving him. “Make sure you do not screw this up. I shall see you later!” He shot them both a look and walked away.

Fujisaki whistled. “What’s with that guy?”

Oowada shrugged. “Some nerds are just… nerdier than Ishi.”

“Yep.”

 

 

Makoto Naegi kept sneaking glances at a certain purple-haired detective from his seat. He knew he was supposed to be mad at her, but he just didn’t like being mad at anyone. He got bitten in the eye by a cockroach once and he couldn’t see out of that eye for a week and instead of making it pay for its crimes, he trapped the little critter in a jar overnight and set it free in the bushes on his backyard the next morning. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Kirigiri was scribbling down notes in her journal, probably updates on the case. She seemed to be deep in thought. Naegi sighed and shifted his gaze to the dark-haired girl seated next to her, Mukuro Ikusaba.

He hadn’t talked to her since the day he chased after her to find out if she was okay. The sad look in her eyes was painful to look at. He wondered if he’d done something wrong. Ikusaba normally wasn’t one to get mad over nothing. Maybe she never liked him and was just looking for the right opportunity to tell him that she didn’t want to be his friend anymore. Naegi also wondered if he ever did anything right these days. He seemed to be pushing a lot of people away.

Class hadn’t started yet. There was still time. He stood up and walked over to Ikusaba, who had her head hung low as she doodled on a scrap piece of paper. She didn’t see him approach and for a while, Naegi just stood over her awkwardly. He cleared his throat. Ikusaba’s head shot up, her eyes narrowed and poised to attack. Naegi made a strained smile. “H-hello.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, her scrutinizing gaze not letting up.

“It’s been a while,” Naegi said, trying to sound casual, but he was so nervous. Ikusaba looked like she was just about ready to pounce at him. He’d never seen her look that defensive before. She was so… guarded. “How are you?”

Ikusaba gripped her pen in her hand so hard that her knuckles turned white. She spoke in a low and steady tone. “I am fine, Naegi-kun.”

“Th-that’s good to hear!” Naegi shoved a hand in his pants pocket, fingers fiddling with an object inside. He tried to think of anything to say to her, but he was just bad at talking to women, especially soldier women who were more than capable of slitting his throat at a moment’s notice. He gulped and tried not to think about that for now. “You look great! Have you been working out?”

Ikusaba frowned. Naegi’s eyes widened and he slapped himself. As in, he actually brought up his free hand and slapped himself on the face. _Why the heck did I just say that?!_

“Yeah?” Ikusaba said cautiously. “…Is something wrong?”

“I got you something, Ikusaba!” He said in a rush.

“What?”

Naegi took out his hand from his pocket and in it he held a small plastic hair clip of a white rabbit. “I heard you mention once that you liked bunnies, so I got you this! Please accept it.”

Ikusaba eyed the clip warily, shifting her gaze between it and Naegi. Naegi grinned and his hands were becoming clammy. Ikusaba was still for a few seconds and then a blush rose up to her cheeks. “Naegi-kun,” she whispered and bit her lip. “This was not necessary.”

“Y-yeah, I know! It’s just a small gift. Take it!” Joy welled up inside of him as Ikusaba took the clip from him, albeit warily.

She bowed her head and fiddled with the clip in her hands. “Thank you,” she said.

“I know you don’t want to hang out with us anymore,” Naegi said, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “But I want you to know that I still care about you! Me and Chihiro and all the others. We don’t want you to forget us.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she replied, still not meeting his gaze. “But this isn’t going to make me start hanging out with you again.”

Naegi’s grin disappeared. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. But I really…” she sighed, picking up her pen and continuing the doodles she’d drawn of ivy leaves framing the edges of the page. “I really appreciate this. Thank you for understanding.”

“Ahh, alright,” said Naegi, nodding, “You’re welcome, though.” He returned to his seat just as their teacher entered the room and commenced class.

 

 

Kirigiri sat still in her spot, carefully analyzing what she’d just seen. The moment Naegi sat back down on his seat and the class started, Ikusaba raised her head up to face the board. She was crying.

She glanced briefly at Naegi and back at Ikusaba who was obviously holding back tears. To the untrained eye, she probably didn’t look out of place, but Kirigiri knew what to look for when examining a person’s emotions, and this was the face of someone who was truly and utterly devastated.

Kirigiri’s gaze slid down to the bunny clip that Ikusaba was gripping in her left hand. The plastic surface shone brightly under the fluorescent lights of the room.

 

 

“Chihiro?” Ishimaru called from his spot on the programmer’s living room floor. They decided to meet up again after class to further work on their project. It was already done, but Ishimaru insisted that there were still details that they needed to change. He had to make sure that their final draft will not be anything less than perfect. “Do you think Mondo is working on his project with Yamada now?”

Fujisaki nodded. “I heard earlier that they were going to work on it in Yamada’s house.”

“But do you think they’re actually doing anything? Mondo especially?”

“Don’t worry about him!” Fujisaki reassured him, taking out a pack of gum and offering it to Ishimaru, who promptly refused. “I specifically told him earlier to be nice to Yamada. I’m sure they’re fine.”

Ishimaru was silent for a few moments and nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’m sure Mondo can handle being a nice project partner for just a few hours.”

 

 

Oowada was so close to strangling Yamada and it wasn’t even funny.

He sat across from the doujin writer on their dining table. He came over to do their English project and so far they haven’t written a single word.

“It is highly convenient that out of all the people in our class, you are my partner, Mondo Oowada!” Yamada opened his backpack and took out a thick folder. 

The gang leader stared in confusion. “Convenient for you, maybe. What the hell are you up to?”

Yamada let out a laugh. It was so ugly and it made Oowada want to scream. “You’re a man and you possess the skills needed to help me carry out my master plan.” There was an evil glint in his eye as he held up the folder for Oowada to see. It had the words ‘ULTIMATE MASTER PLAN’ written in bold, red letters on the front.

Oowada cringed. “The fuck? I ain’t gonna help you with anything!”

“Oh, come on!” Yamada set the folder down and trailed his fingers on its surface. “I have heard many things about you. I know you don’t play by the rules.”

“Dude, if this is something illegal, no offense, but I have so much to live for and you are so not the guy I would want to go to jail for.”

“You may think that now, but you’ll change your mind when you hear about how brilliant my master plan is.”

 

 

“Chihiro, I know you told me not to worry, but I am still worried.”

The programmer raised her head up from her laptop screen and faced her companion. “They’re _fine_.”

“I can’t shake off this feeling that they are not! It’s just… Mondo and Yamada on a single project? Do you think they’ll actually get anything done? Those two?”

“What do you think they’re doing, then? Hatching some evil plan to dominate the world with motorcycles and video games?” Fujisaki laughed at her own joke, resuming her typing. “Now there’s a great idea. Really, Ishimaru, they’re fine.”

 

 

“I want nothing to do with your evil plan to dominate the world, loser. Seriously, this is ridiculous!”

Yamada shook his head. “This isn’t world domination I’m thinking about. Well, not _yet_. This is something much simpler, but ultimately more satisfying.”

“We’re supposed to be working on our project.”

“God, Oowada-kun, since when did you turn into a lame nerd?”

Oowada cringed and didn’t push the issue. Gotta watch out for his rep, after all. “What is this master plan anyway? Not that I care, but if we’re not gonna do anything else I might as well ask.”

“And I’m glad you did, Mondo Oowada-kun. Prepare yourself!” Yamada opened the folder and took out a couple of pieces of paper filled with messy notes, words, and diagrams in blue ink. “Better hang onto something or you’ll be blown away!”

“Sure.”

He cleared his throat and stood up for the full effect. Oowada exaggerated his yawn. “The Ultimate Master Plan is what I have devised to achieve the one goal that I have had my sights on since our first day at Hope’s Peak Academy: To capture the heart of the girl of my dreams!”

“Kill me. Please. Do it now.”

“Very funny, but you will be in awe by the time I have finished explaining!” He straightened his tie and adjusted his glasses. “Ever since I saw this girl, my mind has been unable to think of anything else! I am captivated by the way her gorgeous hair blows with the wind. The sound of her voice is synonymous to an angel’s choir. The shape of her lips drives my imagination mad and inspires me to write a thousand pages worth of doujin!”

“Any chance you have a gun in here? Or a knife maybe?”

“She is the bright light up ahead in the tunnel of darkness that is my life…”

“On second thought, I think this pen will do.”

“She is the most beautiful face the world has ever seen. Behold!” Yamada reaches in the folder and takes out a photo. “The light of my life! I shall do everything in my power to capture her heart.”

Oowada was close to dozing off, but when he caught a glimpse of the photo, his eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. He shot up in his seat and clenched his fists. 

“What the fuck is this?!” He could feel his head throbbing in rage as he glared at Yamada full force.

“I told you you’d be amazed, Mondo Oowada-kun,” Yamada replied snidely, “Yes. The person that my heart yearns for with the strength of a thousand burning suns and a million horsemen combined is none other than the magnificent and exquisite Chihiro Fujisaki!”

 

 

“Have a nice walk home, Ishimaru!” Fujisaki called out from her doorway as the hall monitor set foot outside and walked away. He turned back to her and waved just before she closed the door.

It was quite a long walk from Fujisaki’s house back to his own, but he didn’t mind. At least it wasn’t raining anymore. It was that time of the night where the sun had already set but the sky wasn’t in the typical nighttime shade of blue just yet. He set out walking and let his mind wander. In a small passing thought, he hoped that Oowada will get home safe, too.

As he neared his house, he paused, feeling some things were out of place. The air was suddenly warmer. The skies were pitch black and a nauseating scent filled the air. He kept walking until he was directly in front of his house and found that not only was it completely dark, but its windows were all closed, too.

This was very strange indeed. He grabbed his key from his bag and unlocked the front door. “Mother!” He called out to wherever she may be inside the house as he closed the door behind him and started unlacing his boots. “Mother, I told you to keep the windows open to let the air in.”

There was no reply. Ishimaru sighed.

He got rid of his boots and went upstairs. Maybe she was in her room, sleeping. He took a shower without thinking much of it. When he was done, he went in his room and started changing. The windows in his room were all shut, too. Noting this, Ishimaru walked over and made to open them.

“Kiyotaka?” His mother’s voice startled him and he turned around to meet her wide-eyed gaze. “Don’t open the windows.”

“What is it now, mother? If we keep the windows shut, we’ll suffocate.”

“It’s not safe. You’ve been outside, I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Ishimaru remembered the strangeness in the air as he walked home and stepped away from the window. “Did something happen?”

“The paint factory down the street? You know that?”

He nodded, running a towel over his dripping black hair. “The huge one by the supermarket. What about it?”

“It got burned down this afternoon.”

“How did it happen?”

“Police are looking into it. I heard them say it might be arson.”

“Oh,” Ishimaru looked out the window where the air was darker and thicker than what was normal. “That’s… quite tragic.” 

“How so?”

“Imagine all those laborers. Their primary source of income just burned away without warning. They’re all unemployed now.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

She shook her head. “No one died. There were a few who were injured, but the rest were fine.”

“Imagine all those people. All their families. What’s going to happen to them now?”

“Would you like to help them?”

“What can I even do?” He dropped his towel on the ground and put a shirt on. His mother looked so small as she stood under the doorway of his room, still staring at him with wide red eyes. 

“The men in uniforms told us to keep our windows shut because the air might be toxic,” she said, leaning on the doorway.

“Mother?” Ishimaru’s voice was so soft that he wasn’t even sure if she heard him.

“Yes, Kiyotaka?”

He turned his back to her, facing the window fully. “This town just got a whole lot sadder.”

From behind him, he heard her let out a deep sigh. “Maybe… If we’re lucky, just like that building, someday our sorrows will also burn away.”

 

 

“Okay, shitface, let’s get one thing straight,” Oowada growled as he stared down at the smiling Yamada, “You lay one finger on her, say one word to her… Hell, if you so much as even _look_ at her, I am going to make sure those beady alien eyes of yours never see the light of day ever again.”

“What? Mondo Oowada-kun, you are not my enemy here! Please, settle down!” Yamada said with his hands in front of him in defense for whatever the delinquent might do to him. There was a flash of fear in his eyes that did not go by unnoticed by Oowada. “My love for Chihiro Fujisaki transcends the very realm of existence! I will never do anything to hurt her!”

“You’re a fucking nosy pervert and you’ll never be able to get within fifty feet of her as long as I have anything to say about it.”

“Oh, dear,” Yamada said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “This was an obstacle I did not expect to meet. I fully expected you to be on board with this.”

“You think I’d be on board with helping you stalk my best friend?” He grabbed the folder and slammed it down on the table. The papers inside scattered and flew everywhere. “What do you got in here? What do you know about her?”

Yamada was panicking now. “I-I know nothing! Those are just plans! I wasn’t stalking her or anything!”

“Ya better not be.”

“Mondo Oowada-kun, please sit down!”

Oowada sat back down on his seat, not letting up his glare. “What’s the plan, then?”

Yamada seemed to have regathered his composure. He straightened up once again and adjusted his glassed. “It’s simple and relies only on the success of one variable: Getting rid of the obstacle.”

“And what is this obstacle you’re talkin’ about?”

“Mondo Oowada-kun, you are adorable,” he said, sitting down on his own seat. “Now we’re talking business. I believe the more appropriate question would be _who_ is the obstacle.”

“Alright.”

Yamada closed his eyes in a contemplative look, resting a finger on the side of his glasses. “The obstacle is none other than our local hall monitor, Kiyotaka Ishimaru-kun!”

Oowada stiffened. “Please tell me that I heard that wrong.”

“It’s a sad fact, but it is true,” Yamada put a hand to his heart as if he was delivering truly terrible news. “The things I’ve seen…”

“You have got to be fucking with me.”

“It’s all true!. I’ve seen them spending more time with each other lately. Kiyotaka Ishimaru is the obstacle to my master plan! He must be… exterminated.”

“Wha-? Hang on a minute, you mean to tell me that you think Chihiro and… and Ishi… are _dating?_ “ Oowada wanted to laugh. Oh hell no. Of all the ridiculous and insane events that the world can conjure, he can’t possibly be thinking _that._

“What other explanation is there? They go home together and are always talking with each other! Kiyotaka Ishimaru waits for her to gather her stuff before they exit the classroom. He is the reason why I can’t approach her and talk to her myself!” Yamada shot him a pleading look.

Oowada burst out laughing. Quite loudly, actually. His whole body shook with the rings of his laughter and he clutched his stomach as even the chair legs rattled underneath his body. “You—you… think they’re da-dating! Hah! That’s rich, man!”

“This isn’t a laughing matter!”

“Okay, okay,” said Oowada, calming down a bit. He sighed, set his feet up on the table and placed his arms behind his head. “This turned out to be funny, so I’ll humor you for now. First of all, Ishi’s not the reason why you can’t talk to Chihiro. The reason is because you’re a lame ass nerd with no game and you ain’t worth half of what she is. Second, Chi and Ishi aren’t dating. They’re partners in this goddamn project that we really should be working on right now.”

“How are you so sure about that, Mondo Oowada-kun? You never know what happens behind the closed doors of Chihiro Fujisaki’s house!”

“Are you kidding me? Have you _met_ Ishimaru? He wouldn’t know a person in love with him if it were staring him straight in the fa—” he paused, eyes going wide at the realization of what he’d just blurted out. Yamada stared at him in confusion and he covered up his pause with an awkward, and obviously forced, laugh. “Hah! Dating. That’s rich.”

Yamada frowned. “I have complete confidence in my assumptions. I’ve worked too hard on this plan for it not to pull through! It must be done.”

Oowada sighed and stood up. “Well, you do what you want. I don’t give a shit. Just leave me out of it and save the tears for when she dumps your ass.”

Yamada gasped. “She will not! This plan will not fail! I will woo her until she has no choice but to fall for me!”

“Oh no, man, trust me. You don’t know her like I do,” Oowada grabbed his bag, closed the zipper, and put the strap on his shoulder. “She’s more than capable of kicking your ass even without my help. That doesn’t mean I still won’t try, though. You’ve been warned.”

Yamada only gaped at him as he walked out the door. Oowada stepped out onto the pavement, looked up at the dark sky, and chuckled to himself. That trip turned out way more than he expected it would be. What the worst Yamada can do to anyone anyway? Hell, it might even turn out to be hilarious. He had nothing to worry about.

 

 

That night, Oowada went to sleep. And when he slept, he was transported to another place. A dark street. He was riding his motorcycle, eager to get more of the wind to slam on his face as he rode at lightning speed. His grip on the handles were tight and the thrill that went through him was invigorating. Buildings and lampposts sped by until they were a blur. He paid them no mind. He closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the air.

But then he opened his eyes and in a split second, the world slowed down. He didn’t understand this, seeing as he didn’t do anything to slow himself down. It was as if the road was a conveyor belt underneath him that suddenly decided to stop running. He was still, but the buildings were still blurry.

His gaze shifted to a man on the pavement, wearing a tan trench coat that billowed behind him as he ran. Oowada wondered what he was running from.

Another person, dressed black from head to toe caught up to him. The newcomer gripped him in a headlock and brought out a knife that glinted under the moonlight. Oowada jumped off his bike and approached them.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” He called out.

The attacker locked eyes with Oowada. The arm that was around the man was released and he took it as a chance to run away.

“Mondo Oowada,” the attacker said, steel blue eyes peering from behind a black mask. Suddenly, this person was in front of him. Oowada had no idea why he didn’t try to beat this person to a pulp already. He stood still, eyes a bit unfocused.

“What were you doing to that guy?” Oowada asked.

“You’re drunk,” the attacker said, avoiding his question. “You won’t remember any of this.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

The attacker peered up at him coolly and took of the mask. _Her_ mask. The attacker was a girl. Her gaze was cool and unrelenting and her mouth moved around the words that seemed to him like a lullaby in the still night. “I am so sorry.”

Oowada didn’t have time to say anything in reply before her hand went up to the side of his head and slammed it on the nearest lamppost and he blacked out instantly.

 

 

“This is most interesting, Oowada,” Kirigiri replied once the gang leader had finished telling her about his strange dream as they sat around their cafeteria table. “And you are quite sure that that is what happened the night of your accident?”

“Yeah. The man who was being attacked, I’m sure it’s that dead detective guy. That’s why he seemed familiar.”

Kirigiri pressed her palms together and perched her chin on top of her fingers. “So there had been at least one other attempt at taking the victim’s life, and you stopped it from happening.”

“I didn’t even do anything. I don’t know why she didn’t just go ahead and kill him anyway. S’not like I can do much when I’m piss drunk at midnight.”

“The attacker didn’t want to create a witness.”

“Why not kill both of us then?”

“She didn’t want to kill you either.”

Everyone on the table was silent. Kirigiri put on a thoughtful expression.

“K-kyoudai,” Ishimaru said, his voice shaky. “You met the killer on the night of your accident?”

Kirigiri shook her head. “It wasn’t an accident. Obviously, she knocked Oowada out and threw the motorcycle on top of him to make it look like one. But why was this necessary?”

“That’s really scary!” Fujisaki said.

“I-I’m glad you’re safe. If something worse had happened to you, I’ll…” Ishimaru gulped, looking straight at Oowada. “But yes, that is most alarming. You are never getting on a motorcycle ever again.”

Oowada scowled. “I thought this just proved that the motorcycle had _nothing_ to do with the accident?”

“If you don’t mind me cutting in,” Kirigiri interrupted, expression serious, “But do you remember the attacker’s face?”

Oowada nodded. “She took off her mask and I saw her face. I definitely know who she is.”

Kirigiri’s eyes shifted briefly to Naegi, who sat next to her, before returning to Oowada. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“It’s that soldier chick, Ikusaba,” Oowada replied, just as serious. “I don’t doubt it one bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can so tell that I'm having an extremely hard time getting Yamada to be in character ugh I am so sorry about that.


	22. Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a long chapter to make up for the long time that I didn't update. Sorry about that. (That's why I'm updating this on a Saturday morning before I get busy later on in the day)

“It’s that soldier chick, Ikusaba. I don’t doubt it one bit.”

 

The atmosphere around the table dropped suddenly as Oowada stopped talking and went on to be on the receiving end of Kirigiri’s penetrating, searching gaze. She looked at him like he just proposed the most enticing puzzle mankind has ever known, with her purple eyes boring into his. She tapped a gloved hand to her chin. No one else spoke and the menial chatter of the other students made for subtle background noise as the five kids gaped openly at one another, unable to utter one word.

“You’re lying,” Naegi whispered, breaking the silence.

“There’s no reason for him to lie, Naegi,” Kirigiri replied, not releasing her gaze on the gang leader. 

Oowada was starting to feel uncomfortable. “Yeah…” he said, “It’s her, I’m sure of it. Now will ya stop staring at me like you wanna eat me? It’s creepy.”

Kirigiri didn’t reply. She just blinked and turned to look at Naegi seated beside her. “Please tell me you believe me now.”

Naegi was petrified under her gaze. He didn’t move. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. His wide eyes peered up at her from the strands of hair that fell in front of his face, and they were filled with confusion mixed with slight fear and mortification. 

“I’m not giving up,” was his only reply. Kirigiri nodded.

“Very well. Our challenge must continue, then.”

“Yes… ‘Challenge’.” Naegi sighed. “I really don’t want to compete with you.”

“Only because you know you’ll lose. Give it up. This petty disagreement of ours will only cause further troubles. We’re better off working together than against each other.”

Naegi took a sweeping glance at the other three, who had been observing this exchange with caution. Oowada averted his gaze and Ishimaru stared blankly. It was Fujisaki, however, who had a message displayed on her expression. They locked eyes as the programmer shot him a sympathetic look, biting her bottom lip with worry. Naegi understood and nodded. He turned back to the detective. “I admit my case doesn’t look strong right now, but I don’t want to fight with you either. Can we… Can we just set this aside for a while?”

Naegi’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her to reply. She offered a small smile. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

He smiled back, thoroughly relieved that he didn’t have to fight with her anymore. Despite the gravity of the situation dawning on all of them, this was the one comfort that he could count on, his friendship with Kirigiri.

“What are you gonna do now?” Naegi asked. All heads turned to Kirigiri, who wasn’t fazed nor pressured. She ate her lunch calmly, just as she would under normal circumstances, though their lives were anything but normal now. Naegi figured this part about Kirigiri long ago. She lived in a world of madness.

“I have a feeling she’ll strike again soon,” she replied, “Let’s wait until then.”

“You mean you wanna wait until someone else dies?” Oowada raged. “You’re sick!”

“No.” Kirigiri pinned the gang leader under her stern gaze once again and he settled down as if someone had stuck a pin down his back. “We’re nearing the end of her game. There won’t be any more victims.”

“I-If you don’t mind me asking,” Ishimaru said in a quiet tone, “How are you so sure about this? How do you know what the killer is planning?”

Naegi perked up at the posed question. For all his claims about knowing Kirigiri, he could never for the life of him figure out how she was able to do all these, how she can be so certain of the killer’s movements and future plans. How exactly did her mind even work? For a person to be able to have that much skill… he shuddered to think what was going on inside that head.

It seemed to him to be a lonely way to live.

At last, after several seconds of deadly silence, Kirigiri looked up at them, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear as she gave another knowing smile. “Because I think exactly as she does.”

 

-

 

Lunch time ended, and the students went back to their respective classrooms. The room was filled with the usual chatter of a cluster of upbeat teenagers as they went about their daily tasks. Also as usual, Kiyotaka Ishimaru sat in the front row and he was the only one who did not join in the mindless chatter. He sat pin straight, glaring at the blackboard that stood only a few feet away from him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped in surprise.

“Ishi,” said the familiar voice of the biker gang leader from behind him. He twisted his torso to see Oowada standing over him. “You doing anything later? I heard from Chi you guys are already done with your project.”

Ishimaru’s expression turned serious. Why was Oowada asking this question all of a sudden? “Well, I think I have a few after school duties to attend to…”

“C’mon, man. You’re always working. You should take breaks every once and a while!” Ishimaru noted the strange tone to Oowada’s speech and was puzzled. He looked up to his face. The gang leader had his gaze fixed on the floor and not on him and he scratched the back of his neck as he spoke. 

“What is all this about, Mondo?”

A faint blush appeared on Oowada’s cheeks. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I-uhh, ya know… Just thinking maybe we could go do something, uhh… together? Just you and me? I-If you’re cool with it! I mean, I’m not trying to sound creepy here but—it’s ahh… Brothers do that, right? We’re brothers!”

Ishimaru’s thick brows furrowed in confusion as he kept his wide-eyed gaze on the severely flustered gang leader. “Yes, of course we’re brothers,” he replied, not really sure why Oowada had to state something so obvious. 

“See?” Oowada’s voice was high-pitched and scratchy. Ishimaru saw his cringing and concluded that his kyoudai must be nervous. But what on earth would he be nervous about? Oowada finally looked at him and continued talking. “Look, man, remember when we had that talk at the park and uhh… You said something, when we went to your house and it was—”

“Are you referring to our date?”

It was impossible for Oowada’s face to get any redder. He opened his mouth and closed it again like a gaping fish, trying to form words, but only making strange half-choking noises.

“Kyoudai, are you alright?” Ishimaru asked.

“What? I mean, yeah, I-I’m fine.” Oowada dropped his hand to his side and swallowed. He looked fiercely at the befuddled hall monitor, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ishimaru sat in confusion as Oowada let out in one breath: “Kiyotaka Ishimaru, will you go on a date with me?”

A full two seconds passed with Ishimaru not showing any reaction and Oowada nearly dying of torture as he waited for his reply. Finally, Ishimaru beamed, his red eyes disappearing because of how huge his smile was. “Kyoudai, you’re so silly! I thought you were going to ask something serious!”

The gang leader’s face dropped into a deadpan. “Ishi, do you even know what a date is?”

“Of course! I’ve been on plenty!” Ishimaru replied. “It’s when friends hang out and have fun together! I quite enjoy going on ‘dates’. You didn’t even have to ask, Mondo!”

Unfortunately for him, Oowada didn’t look to be as amused. His lips pressed in a hard line as he clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m so severely fucked right now. I can’t even believe—”

“I can’t do it today, though,” Ishimaru interrupted his mumbling-slash-ranting. 

“Eh? Why not?” He detected a hint of disappointment in Oowada’s voice.

“The school is understaffed right now. Apparently one of the faculty members went to work with smallpox and half of the teachers got infected, so I’m volunteering around the teachers’ lounge for the next few days.” 

“Oh. Volunteering, huh? _Volunteer…_ As in, you don’t really need to do it but you’re doing it anyway.”

“I’d love to spend more time with you, kyoudai, but I really can’t stand seeing our hardworking teachers being stressed out like this.” He gave the gang leader a comforting smile. “When everyone’s all better, then we can go on that date.”

A strange expression crossed on Oowada’s face. “Yeah… Date…”

“I’m glad that you understand, Mondo!”

 

-

 

Oowada had no choice but to smile back at his best friend. It really was like him to prioritize the needs of others before his own. He tried not to be disappointed that he’d much rather spend time doing boring tasks at school than go on a ‘date’ with Oowada, but it proved to be difficult. Even though the hall monitor didn’t have a clue what exactly Oowada had asked of him, he still looked forward to being able to spend time with just the two of them.

He was terrible at this stuff. It was clear as day. Oowada resisted the urge to kick himself as he returned to his seat and class resumed.

He went home alone that afternoon, having gone through the rest of the day uneventfully. He dropped his bag on the floor of his room and released a tired sigh. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but he still had to do some homework. Of course, it was no fun without the loud hall monitor sitting right next to him, but he figured he could spare a few minutes to at least _try_ to be more productive.

He sat down on the floor and opened his bag, taking out the few books he’d brought home with him. He peered in and noted the pieces of tin candy wrappers and abandoned erasers that settled at the bottom and decided his bag needed a good cleaning. He snatched the pieces of junk in his hand and set them down on the floor. There was even some money in there that he’d forgotten about. Awesome.

His hand came across a crumpled sheet of white paper and he stopped fumbling. It didn’t look like it’s been stuck in his bag for long, as the shade of white was still stark and bright. He opened it up in his hands and examined its contents.

The first thing he noticed was Ishimaru’s face. “What the hell…”

The entire page was filled with pencil drawings of some sort of comic, a story that somehow involved Ishimaru. Oowada cursed loudly. It was a page from Yamada’s Ultimate Master Plan.

The first panel showed Yamada stealing a wooden hammer from the Hope’s Peak art room. The next one showed Ishimaru coming out of a classroom as Fujisaki waited at the school entrance. Yamada hid under the shadows and muttered to himself as he clutched the hammer tightly. As Ishimaru proceeded to walk towards the school doors, Yamada crept up behind him and swiftly pounded the hammer on his head, knocking him out. Ishimaru fell to the floor with a thud and a smiling Yamada hoisted him over his shoulder and threw him in a storage closet. He locked the door and dusted off his hands and walked off, presumably to the school doors to meet with Fujisaki, because that was when the page ended.

Oowada’s jaw dropped. “Fucking hell.” Was Yamada seriously going to push through with this ridiculous plan? He groaned. “Why, oh /why/ can’t the dweeb just ask her out like a normal person?” It was a stupid plan, for all of Yamada’s claims of its brilliance. Plus, he was pretty sure using a wooden hammer on someone’s head would be enough to murder someone, not just knock out. Then again, it’s not like Yamada would know anything about potential murder weapons and violence.

The gang leader flopped down on his bed and sighed, homework already forgotten. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks with his eyes until he felt sleep come to him. _Stupid Yamada. Looks like I have to keep an eye on Ishi for now_.

 

-

 

“What’re you doing?” Oowada asked Ishimaru as he followed the prefect through the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy. Ishimaru had a tower of hardbound books in his arms.

“I’m delivering these books to the library.”

“Why are _you_ doing that? We have librarians, you know.”

Ishimaru frowned. “Kyoudai, our librarians are fifty-year-old women with deteriorating hip stability. If it would help them, I’d be happy to act as muscle anytime.” He let out a quick pant and readjusted his shoulders. The tower of books reached up almost to his nose. It was a miracle that he was still walking straight.

“Hey, gimme some of that,” Oowada said, reaching for the stack.

“No! I’m quite fine, Mondo. You can go ahead to the classroom now.”

“Ishi, you look more precarious than the leaning tower of Pisa.”

Ishimaru smiled. “Your vocabulary and knowledge of worldwide landmarks is improving. I must say I’m quite impressed.”

“I…” Oowada scowled. “Fuckin’ hell. I’ve been spending too much time around you.”

Ishimaru hid his blush behind the stack of books that he was holding. “Good.”

Oowada stopped walking, not expecting that response. Ishimaru paused too and turned to him with a questioning look.

The gang leader held his arms out. “Just give me the god damn books already.”

Ishimaru beamed and handed him not half, but _all_ the books. Oowada staggered slightly under the weight and shifted his forearms to get a better hold. “Jeez, man, you coulda at least kept some of em.”

“But you were so eager to help, so I thought you wanted to take all of them!” Ishimaru turned around and they began walking once again.

Oowada groaned. Sometimes he just couldn’t determine if Ishimaru was teasing him or if he really was clueless about everything. They reached the library (Ishimaru held the door open for both of them at least), and Oowada set the books down on the floor.

“Thank you for your help, kyoudai!” Ishimaru said as Oowada rubbed his aching back. “You may go back to class now. I’ll take it from here.”

“Wait a minute. Ya mean, you still have to do more stuff in here?”

“Of course! These books won’t shelve themselves, you know!” Ishimaru knelt down on the floor and took out the books one by one, sorting them into groups of whatever it was that library books were grouped into. “You’ve already been a huge help. You may go back now.”

Oowada looked around the room and noted the tall shelves of books that surrounded them. He hated libraries. They made him feel suffocated and it was just too damn quiet. In fact, he’d always avoided going to one and at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to follow Ishimaru’s command and get back to class where there was at least _some_ level of chaos going on at all times.

But he was reminded of Yamada’s plan and he cringed. If he wanted to prevent that plan from succeeding, he needed stay with Ishimaru, just to be sure. He sighed and knelt down next to the prefect, who was startled by the action.

“Kyoudai?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll help out,” Oowada replied nonchalantly and took a few books in his arms. “Just show me how to do this shit. It’ll be faster if it’s both of us working.”

This, however, did not turn out to be true. Shelving books was no laughing matter, and Ishimaru took a long time explaining to him how it was done. Oowada kept shelving the books in the wrong places and they ended up arguing a lot, with Oowada always losing. The damn call numbers just didn’t make any sense! How was it possible that Ishimaru was such a natural at it?

At last, though, they were finally done, and there was only a few minutes left before their next class. “Thank you again for helping out, Mondo! I’m sure the librarians really appreciate it,” Ishimaru told him even though Oowada really had been more trouble than anything else. He grumbled in response. To hell with the librarians. It’s not like it was them he did this stupid thing for.

Ishimaru and Oowada walked side by side back to their classroom, making small talk along the way. They passed by the bathrooms and Ishimaru paused. “I’m just gonna take a quick bathroom break.”

Oowada nodded. Ishimaru made to open the door when he suddenly remembered Yamada’s master plan. He jumped in front of the hall monitor and swatted his hand away. “Hang on, just gonna check something real quick.” He opened the door and brought his head in, checking the place to and fro to make sure it was empty. “Alright. Coast is clear. You can go in.” He turned back to see a frowning Ishimaru.

“You are acting very strange today, Mondo,” he said, “Is something wrong?”

“N-Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s great, man. Just perfect.” Oowada held up two thumbs and was tempted to slap himself for how stupid he must look. 

“What were you looking for?”

“Me? I-I was… looking for… dogs…”

“Dogs? You were looking for dogs in a school bathroom?”

Oowada shifted his gaze to the bulletin board behind Ishimaru’s head and shrugged. “Y-you never know what’s in there! Could be anything, really.”

Ishimaru looked like he wanted to say something in reply, but knew they were pressed for time so he decided to let Oowada’s strange behavior go and made for the bathroom door.

Oowada released a breath of relief when Ishimaru disappeared. That was close. But he imagined Ishimaru wouldn’t believe him if he told the truth anyway. It was best that he remained unaware.

 

-

 

Makoto Naegi tried his best to act normally come lunch time. He ate his lunch normally. He chatted with Fujisaki normally. He even sat next to Kirigiri normally. There was absolutely no reason why this particular day had to be different from all the ones before. None.

Except he can’t shake off the feeling of a pair of eyes on him. He ignored it, and went on living his life normally, as he should.

“And what he did was he took out the entire alien fleet all by himself! It was awesome!” Fujisaki exclaimed, talking about the sci-fi show that they were both huge fans of. Unfortunately, Naegi had been behind a few episodes and needed the little programmer to tell him about what he missed.

“Wow. That is amazing. I have got to watch that.”

“We should watch it together!” Fujisaki said, jumping in her seat. Naegi laughed.

“Yeah, definitely. It’s no fun watching alone.”

“There’s a rerun on Saturday afternoon at 4-ish,” Fujisaki said through bites of her sandwich. “You can come by my place and we can watch then.”

“Seriously? Alright, I’ll be there!”

Kirigiri cleared her throat, interrupting their conversation. “‘Silver Blaze’, what do you think that means?”

Both Naegi and Fujisaki turned to look at her. “But I thought you already knew?” Fujisaki asked, voicing out the same question that went on in Naegi’s head. “Ishimaru said it was a reference to Sherlock Holmes and you said it was a message.”

A small frown appeared on Kirigiri’s face. “I know. But…”

“I can’t imagine there to be any other meaning to that,” said Naegi.

“What if there’s something else about it?” Kirigiri posed, folding her fingers under her chin. “What if we’re missing something important? People are dying, Naegi, we can’t afford to make an error such as this.”

Fujisaki put on a worried expression and her hands shook lightly as she held her sandwich. “That is a scary thought!”

Naegi shook his head. “There’s nothing to worry about, Chihiro. I’m sure there’s nothing more to the message.”

Kirigiri spoke. “What if there is?”

“You’re overthinking this,” Naegi replied without missing a beat and shoved a spoonful of jello in his mouth. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Anyway, Chihiro, this Saturday, right? Should I bring popcorn?”

Fujisaki nodded. “The butter one, please! I don’t like the salty one.”

Kirigiri stood up suddenly, alerting all the others at the table. “Naegi-kun, may I speak with you in private, please?”

Naegi sat still, observing all the others who had their eyes on him now. Again, he looked to Fujisaki for help, but this time she wasn’t conveying anything. He stood up and followed Kirigiri out of the cafeteria. 

They stood out in the hall. The floor tiles and walls were so white they made Naegi want to squint. This part of the school had always stood out to him. It was the only place that was pure white, like a hospital room. It always made him feel as if he were having a surreal experience. Like he was floating off to some place else with nothing to ground him.

But that wasn’t the case right now. He locked his gaze on Kirigiri’s calm purple eyes, and they were enough to scare away the uneasy sensations that the place brought him. She had her arms crossed in front of her. It wasn’t fair how she never changed her composure. Except for that one time when he saw Kirigiri’s office, he’d never seen her let go of her serious persona. She always managed to be calm no matter what situation they were in. It was both a blessing and a curse.

He cleared his throat. “Did you want to tell me something?”

“The case. Silver Blaze. That, among other things,” she said in quick bursts of speech. Strange. He’d never heard her talk like that before.

“I already told you what I think.”

“There’s more.”

“You know what? I don’t think that’s what you came here to talk to me about,” Naegi said, and judging by the slightest faltering of her mask, he was right. “What’s really going on, Kirigiri?”

She looked down at Naegi’s shoes instead of his face, her fringe covering her eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t mad at me anymore.”

“I am not mad at you anymore.”

“Oh.” Kirigiri looked up and nodded. “Alright. That’s… good to know. Good day, then.” She twisted her heel and made to walk away, but Naegi caught her elbow.

“You haven’t told me everything.”

“That is all, Naegi-kun.”

“Kirigiri,” his hand slid down her arm slowly and stopped at her wrist, barely brushing her gloved thumb. She stiffened but did not pull away. “Why did you even have to ask me that?”

She took in a deep breath. “Because I don’t _want_ you to be mad at me.”

He nodded. “Well, I’m not. Just so we’re clear on that.”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“Are _you_ mad at me?”

She shook her head. 

Naegi let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “So we’re okay. What’s there to worry about?”

To his complete surprise, Kirigiri blushed. “I-It’s nothing. I should go.”

Naegi grasped her hand, his fingers wrapping firmly around hers and she froze again. He stepped close, his heart hammering inside his chest. “Hey,” he whispered as he stepped in front of her. She looked at him, confused. “We’re okay, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are,” she replied, just as softly. “We are just going around in circles here. If there’s nothing we need to talk about then I should—”

He brought up his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The words got stuck in her throat, her cheeks still tinged with pink as he went on to say, “Please take care of yourself.”

“I… can’t promise that.”

Naegi dropped his hand and nodded in understanding. “A-alright. Of course, your job being a detective after all. I shouldn’t have expected you to—”

“But I’ll make an exception. For you.”

“What?”

She smiled, and it was not knowing or teasing. It was the beautiful, genuine smile that he’d always loved seeing her do and he hasn’t seen it in so long that it filled his heart with joy and made butterflies surge in his stomach. “I promise that I won’t get into too much trouble,” she said, “And if I feel any potential danger coming, I’ll alert you immediately.”

“Thanks. And I promise to help you, in any way I can.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I have a feeling we should shake hands.”

“Please, Naegi, it’s a promise, not a business ordeal. We should do a pinky swear.”

“You’re right. Let’s do a pinky swear.”

A blush rose up to both of their faces when they realized that their hands were already joined, seeing that neither of them had let go of the other’s hand. Naegi loosened his grip, slipping four fingers out from her grasp, leaving only his pinky as it sought her own. They linked their pinkies together and let it dangle below them for a while, considering the promise already done.

 

-

 

Back inside the cafeteria, Ishimaru finished his food hurriedly, put down his utensils and stood up. “I’m needed in the teachers’ lounge again. I have to go.”

Fujisaki and Oowada said their goodbyes and Ishimaru exited the room.

“Mon-chan,” Fujisaki piped up in a playful tone, “You’re trying to put the moves on Ishimaru, aren’t you?”

The gang leader choked on his food and coughed, pounding his fist on the table. “Ah! Hell, no way. Wh-what makes you think that?”

Fujisaki narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you’re up to something. Are you even _trying_ to hide the fact that you like him?”

Oowada averted her gaze. “What’s it to ya anyway?”

Fujisaki squealed and bounced in her seat. “Oh my gosh! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! You’ve got it _bad_ for him. You _so_ do.”

“I do not!”

“You do! You look at him with sparkles in your eyes!”

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

“And I caught you staring like so many times…”

“Chi, shut up. Please shut up.”

“You should ask him out! Go have a romantic dinner or something.”

“Thanks, Chi, but I’m not gonna do that,” he lied, not looking at her. “I’m okay with us being friends.”

“Oh,” she replied, disappointment evident in her voice. “Well, yeah, friends is okay. I guess.”

Oowada hardened his jaw and stood up to leave. “I’m gonna go see where Ishi is.”

Fujisaki smiled. “Yeah, go after your prince charming!”

He glared at her. “First off, _I’m_ the prince charming here. Not him.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night…”

Oowada blushed and kicked the leg of his chair. “I’m the prince charming, god fucking damn it!” He stormed off, leaving a thoroughly amused Chihiro Fujisaki as she finished the last bite of her sandwich and stood up herself.

 

-

 

Oowada spotted Ishimaru going out of the teachers’ lounge and made to walk towards him when a dark figure moved from behind the wall on the other side of the hall and made him pause. Ishimaru was yelling out farewells to some of the staff inside the room as he closed the door behind him. He dusted off his pants and started walking.

When Ishimaru spotted him, a huge smile broke out of his face and Oowada would have smiled back if it weren’t for the fact that Yamada was right behind him with the wooden hammer already raised up in the air. 

In a flash, Oowada took quick steps forward, the world coming to a silent blur all around him. Ishimaru’s eyes widened with shock and he gripped the prefect’s shoulder and shoved him aside to get to the attacker. Yamada had his mouth open, ready to let out a scream, but the sound got stuck in his throat as Oowada’s hands came up to the sides of his head and rammed it on the nearby wall with admirable precision.

Yamada’s body fell to the floor, gave one sharp jolt, and went limp. The hammer fell out of his grasp and clattered on the tiles.

Oowada stared down at him, eyes mad with fury. Then, he turned to the hall monitor, who didn’t even look like he was breathing.

“Ishimaru, are you alright?”

Ishimaru flicked his gaze back and forth between the gang leader and the unconscious Yamada and his eyes filled with fiery red rage and panic. “Mondo… Mondo, what have you done?”

“I knocked him out. You should be happy!”

“No! Why would I be? I mean…” He checked Yamada’s body again and cringed. “We need to bring him to the nurse immediately! I-I… This… This type of violence will not be tolerated!”

“For god’s sake, please don’t say what I think you’re about to say…” But Ishimaru was already taking out the pink slip of paper from his pocket and Oowada knew he was done for.

“DETENTION, MONDO OOWADA! DETENTION!”

 

-

 

Oowada sat down on his chair, not at all eager to go on for the next hour sitting idly in the classroom with nothing to entertain him. He’d never been fond of detention. Then again, who was? Detention was terrible, but what made it even worse was that this time he wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Stupid Yamada and his stupid master plan,” he muttered under his breath, scrunching the straps of his bag in his hands in an attempt to take his anger out on something. “Fucking saved someone’s life and this is what I get.”

He wondered what stupid task he had to do now. Write ‘I will not break the rules ever again’ fifty times on a sheet of paper? Get a rag and start wiping the chalk dust off of every single chair in the room? Cry, maybe and try to get the teacher’s sympathy so he can get out of this hellhole?

He was seriously considering that last one now.

The door opened, but instead of the teacher he’d been expecting, it was Ishimaru who entered. The hall monitor stepped up in front of the teacher’s desk and crossed his arms. “I am not happy about this, Mondo Oowada. Not one bit.”

“Ishi? What’re you doing here?” Oowada asked, releasing his hold on his bag and letting it fall to the floor with a resounding thud.

“I told you we’re understaffed at the moment, and I was tasked to oversee detention for today,” Ishimaru sighed, rubbing his temples. “Of course, I wouldn’t have needed to do this job if you hadn’t knocked out Yamada. Mondo, what on earth were you thinking?”

Oowada scoffed. “The guy deserved it.”

“You slammed his head on the wall so hard that he still hasn’t woken up!”

“Like I said, he deserved it.”

“Mondo, what am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know, _thank me_ , maybe? I just saved your god damn life!”

Oowada didn’t even realize that he had stood up from his seat in an effort to tower over the seething hall monitor. Ishimaru shot him a confused look. “What? What’re you talking about?”

“He has this stupid plan, alright? He was sneaking up behind you to hit you over the head with a hammer.”

“W-why would Yamada-kun do that?” Ishimaru asked, his voice suddenly a lot softer. “Did I do anything bad to him? Have I offended him in anyway? Why is he mad at me, Mondo?”

Oowada groaned. “See? That’s the thing! You don’t even know what it’s about! He thinks you like Chihiro, alright? And he wants to ‘eliminate the competition’ or something of the sort. It was pretty fucking stupid and you could’ve gotten _killed_ if I wasn’t there to save you!”

Ishimaru was stunned for a few moments then he shook his head. “But you didn’t have to knock him out!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do then?”

“You could have asked him politely to stop what he was doing.”

Oowada closed the remaining distance between them in order to flick Ishimaru’s forehead with his thumb and index finger. The hall monitor flinched in response. “Damn, you’re really an idiot, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“ _He was trying to kill you._ You honestly think that talking to him nicely was the first thing I should have thought of doing?”

Ishimaru’s eyes snapped up to meet his and time seemed to slow down. Oowada noticed that they were standing far too close. He gulped, looking back at the hall monitor who had surprise written all over his face.

“What? What’s that look of yours mean?”

“You… You’d beat someone up… For me?”

Oowada paled instantly and struggled to form a response. “Y-Yeah… I, uhh, kinda already did.”

“You could’ve killed him!”

“ _He_ could’ve killed _you_.”

“Does that not even bother you?”

Oowada scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. Was it supposed to?”

The gang leader looked up at the ceiling, trying to get his thinking straight when a sudden pressure was put on his chest. He looked down and saw that Ishimaru had set his hand right over where his heart should be. It was only a fleeting touch, his fingers barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, but he felt it immensely. It was crazy.

His heart started pounding, as if in response to Ishimaru’s touch. Judging by the sudden shock in the hall monitor’s eyes, he felt it too. Ishimaru dropped his hand to his side as if it had been burned. 

“You kept me from getting hurt,” Ishimaru whispered at the tail of a realization.

“I was only trying to protect you.”

“Well, I don’t need your help,” Ishimaru replied, his expression shifting from dreamy and admiring to stern and scolding in a split second. “I could’ve taken care of Yamada easily on my own.”

Oowada ruffled his hair, laughing derisively. “Sure you can.”

“You’ve seen what I can do. It wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. But I was there, and what’s done is done.”

“I totally could have taken him!” Ishimaru insisted, voice rising. “I beat _you_! It wouldn’t have taken more than eight seconds to take Yamada down.”

“For god’s sake! Can’t you just thank me?”

“I didn’t ask you to do this!”

“I got detention for you!”

“No,” Ishimaru tried to back away but he bumped into the desk behind him and discovered that he was trapped by Oowada to his spot. He raised his chin to appear taller, upholding his austerity. “You got detention because you broke the rules _again._ You let your rage take over and resorted to violence.”

“ _Jesus,_ Ishi. It was a split second decision! I didn’t have time to think about what I’d do, alright? All I knew at that moment was that I would’ve doneanything to keep you from getting harmed!”

Ishimaru froze, his eyes wide and stunned and Oowada realized the implications of what he’d just said and shut up too. Ishimaru’s lips trembled with words that he wanted to say but could not get out. The prefect drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I already told you,” he said, his voice low, “You are _not_ obliged to protect me. In any way.”

“It’s not an obligation,” Oowada replied gruffly. He cleared his throat and drew in a breath of his own. _It’s now or never._ “When are you gonna realize that I’m doing this because I want to?”

Ishimaru gulped. “Want to what?”

“I want you to be safe. And happy, and most of the things that make you happy are completely ridiculous shit, but I’ll put up with it because that’s what I want. You.” Oowada drew closer to him, the tips of their shoes brushing. Ishimaru’s eyes were wide and slightly hazy. He gripped the edge of the desk with white-knuckled fingers as Oowada whispered in the stillness of the room. “I want you, Ishi.”

“M-me?” the hall monitor stuttered out, the shakiness in his voice betraying the brave face he put on. “I-I don’t understand! First of all, _why?_ ”

“Because you’re the only one who’s capable of putting up with my shit and I’m the only one capable of putting up with yours.” Oowada tried for an easygoing smile. “Of course, if you don’t feel the same, which is probably true, then there’s nothing I can do about it. I just… I had to get it out. Somehow.”

Ishimaru pressed his palms flat on Oowada’s chest and the gang leader waited. This was it. There was no turning back now. Everything was up to Ishimaru at this point.

He could feel each curve in Ishimaru’s hands, every movement that his slightly trembling fingers made. Warmth emanated from Ishimaru’s skin and penetrated the cloth of his shirt, drawing out an imperceptible force that made his heart beat quicker. 

You know how when you stare at an object, and you stare at it long enough, eventually your eyes shift to focus on that single object while everything else blends into a barely discernible palette of colors to make that object stand out? Much like that, Oowada stared at Ishimaru and everything that had nothing to do with him turned into trashy background. His raven hair turned auburn under the streams of the afternoon sun. His lips were a delicate shade of dark pink as he worried them between his teeth, an act he did when he was anxious. For a while he just stood there and stared. For the life of him, all he could do was stare at the spectacle before him. And he wondered how the world grew about pieces and fragments to form Kiyotaka Ishimaru.

He tried to think of other thoughts, but his brain would give him none. He tried to shift his focus to other things, but that too proved to be impossible. And if his encounter with divine intervention had taught him anything, it was that he had to wait.

Everything was silent for the next few moments. Not a sound was made but the distant chirping of the birds from outside the window.

Ishimaru peered up at him and Oowada found himself lost in pools of raging fire.

His fingers moved on Oowada’s chest, shifting slightly, and for a moment, the gang leader feared that he would push him away. Instead, the fingers tightened, gripping the fabric of his shirt and tugging on it softly.

At that moment, the world started running again, and Ishimaru’s flaming red eyes melted into a puddle of darkness as Oowada leaned in and kissed him.

Ishimaru’s lips were chapped but soft against his own, sending the gang leader’s thoughts reeling. He tilted his head to get a better angle. The prefect’s nose pressed against his cheek and he felt Ishimaru’s sharp inhale as he staggered under the shock of Oowada’s sudden attack. Ishimaru stood rigid and unmoving. Oowada took this as a sign of rejection. He started to draw away from the hall monitor, but at the exact moment that their lips parted, Ishimaru’s arms came up behind his neck and drew him back in. Their lips met again and this time, Ishimaru kissed back fervently. Inexperienced, but eager. Oowada let out a low, contented hum and set his hands on the desk on either side of Ishimaru’s body.

They shuffled together, both making efforts to shift their position so they’d be more comfortable, so long as they never had to stop kissing. Oowada’s feet were in between Ishimaru’s, who had spread his legs in the heat of the moment. Ishimaru drew back a little to nip lightly at Oowada’s lower lip, effectively getting the gang leader to part his lips and letting Ishimaru’s tongue slip in. Oowada stroked his tongue tentatively. The hall monitor jumped and pulled back, a surprised yelp erupting from his throat. 

Oowada opened his eyes and took in the sight of a shocked Ishimaru, his lips swollen and damp with Oowada’s spit, and he laughed.

Ishimaru turned red all over. “Wh-what’s so funny?”

“You are.”

“Well that’s rude,” he replied, pouting.

Oowada leaned in again, taking that jutted out lower lip in his mouth and sucking on it briefly before pulling away. “You’re so weird.”

“My arms are getting tired,” said Ishimaru as he made no move to remove his arms from around Oowada’s neck. 

The gang leader frowned in confusion. “So? Just let go.”

Ishimaru shook his head. He beamed, stood on the tips of his toes and hoisted himself up so that he sat on the desk, his legs spread wide around Oowada’s waist. Oowada flushed deep red, all too aware at the implications of this new position. 

“There,” the prefect remarked proudly, “This way, we’re about the same height, and my arms are more relaxed.” Ishimaru closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly, waiting for Oowada to kiss him again. The gang leader, however, contemplated on what will be the course of his next actions.

His hands hovered an inch over Ishimaru’s body, hesitating. But he took one look at Ishimaru’s dark pink lips and all uncertainty went out the window. He put his hands on Ishimaru’s waist and pressed together their open mouths.

They kissed lazily, each movement drawn out and intimate. Time passed, as time always did, and it soon became evident that they had to catch their breaths. Oowada was the first one to pull back, but Ishimaru chased his lips and stole another brief peck before he too pulled away. Oowada blinked at his surroundings, gears shifting in his head as everything came into focus once again. He forgot the ability to breathe. His brain went wild and his thoughts were hasty and fleeting, pouring through him, filling inside him until he could not discern which was which anymore. It was the harsh dose of reality after a few minutes spent in dreamland. He shook his head, frantically ridding himself of his reverie.

“What the hell…” he muttered, which probably wasn’t the best thing to say in front of the guy you just made out with on a teacher’s desk.

“Hm?” Ishimaru still looked a bit distant. “Is something wrong?”

Oowada extricated himself from Ishimaru’s grasp and walked quickly to retrieve his bag off the floor. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, not looking at the prefect. “Everything’s fine! But… But it’s getting late, ya know? Think we should call it a day, alright?”

Ishimaru’s eyes turned dark, disappointed. “Yes. That is true.”

Oowada walked over to the door and stopped just before his hand went on the door handle. He turned back to Ishimaru, who was still perched on the desk and wore a face littered with all sorts of confusion. 

“Look man,” Oowada started, his heart pounding and head rushing. He watched as Ishimaru’s face grew more and more grim. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Ishimaru made a firm nod as Oowada exited the classroom.

And despite what Oowada promised him, they didn’t talk the next day. Nor did they speak for several days after that.


	23. Getting Warmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirigiri and Naegi are friends again so yay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I might as well post this now cause I keep forgetting to!

“You’re right. Let’s do a pinky swear,” 

Naegi’s smile was soft and kind as he adjusted their fingers so that only their pinkies were linked. Kirigiri tried to fight off the blush that threatened to rise up to her cheeks, but the effort was futile. Naegi’s smile brightened up his entire face. She’d gone so long without seeing that smile that it took her aback, seeing it now. Just as she expected, it still had the ability to calm down her raging thoughts and transfer that urgency to the beating of her heart. It wasn’t fair for her to be so affected by it. She tried not to be.

Their linked pinkies swayed in the space between them as they avoided looking at each other’s faces. There was a huge weight in the pit of Kirigiri’s stomach, a truth that she was on the verge of blurting out, but she remained quiet. Her mastery over the art of stoicism had served her well. Promises, to her, were an insignificant thing. For while they required a considerable amount of dedication from the parties involved, promises were bound to be broken once the situation called for it.

But she fought off that nagging feeling anyway. She took it in her hands and wrenched it out of her grasp and threw it out of the window. Then she channeled all her thoughts to Naegi’s hand, connected to hers, creating in her an entirely new set of ideologies to believe in. For this moment, she let him win.

It was Naegi who suggested that they should walk home together after classes were done, and it was Kirigiri who agreed with more zeal than she ought to show. It was completely ridiculous. She hated to think that she was starting to act like a hyperactive schoolgirl, but it didn’t seem like Naegi noticed anything wrong.

They greeted the afternoon sun outside the walls of Hope’s Peak Academy. Naegi walked alongside her, silent but alert, his eagerness evident on the expression that he wore. Though what on earth he was eager about, Kirigiri could not determine.

And probably for the first time in the entire duration of their friendship, Kirigiri opened up the conversation in a manner that did not pertain to murders or the Sagittarii Killer in any way. She took a deep breath, surprised by the fact that she was slightly anxious to get the words out of her mouth, and mumbled, “How are you, Naegi?”

The luckster took a moment to reply, stunned at being spoken to. “What, me? W-well, I-I’m awesome. Just great.”

“That’s good to know,” she replied, “Didn’t you bring your bike to school this morning?”

He shook his head. “I decided to walk today. I wasn’t in any hurry.”

“Oh. It’s just that I remember there was that time you took your bike to school and forgot to bring it home.”

“You actually remember that?” He asked in disbelief, making her smile.

“I forget nothing,” she replied promptly.

“That’s not fair. Not everyone is as smart as you are.”

Her brows furrowed. “It’s quite a simple thing. I don’t know why that should be indicative of my intelligence.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he remarked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “Answer me this, then. Do you know _why_ I forgot my bike that day?”

Kirigiri tried to think of the answer, setting her gaze on an approaching lamppost that stood a few feet away. What else happened that day? That was the day that Naegi found out that she was a detective, when he followed her into the Matsui residence and found the body of the little boy. It was Inuzuka who noted that Naegi forgot his bike, not Kirigiri. Come to think of it, she had been so busy examining the crime scene that it was a miracle that she remembered Inuzuka saying this. No wonder Naegi was so surprised that she knew it.

But _why_ he forgot it? She had no idea. Maybe Inuzuka deduced that too, for as far as she was concerned he had been a much better detective than she was (no teacher as good as age, as they say), but she didn’t remember him saying anything about it. Nor did Naegi explain the reason for it either. She shook her head. “I actually have no idea.”

“Now that’s a first,” he said, teasing. “You really don’t have a hunch or even a guess? Come on. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

She put a hand on her chin in thought and gazed at the moving ground beneath her feet. He was challenging her, and she had decided to take him on. “Alright,” she said matter-of-factly, as if this entire situation was just another case she was tackling, “I’ll approach this in a way that I approach detective work, then. So, you took your bike to school that morning, and then you and I walked home together and you forgot it. Hmm.”

“Take your time.”

“Can I ask questions?”

“Why do you need to ask questions?”

“I always ask people questions when I’m working on a case.”

He shrugged. “Okay, if it’ll help you think. Go ahead.”

“What was the first thing that you thought of when you woke up that morning?”

Naegi’s ears turned red, and Kirigiri noted the shifting of his hands in his pockets where he appeared to be clenching them repeatedly. “I, uhh. B-breakfast.”

“Breakfast?”

“Yeah. Komaru-chan always leaves my bedroom door open in the morning. Cause she knows the only way to wake me up is if I can smell the food coming from the kitchen.”

This made her smile. That was something that she didn’t know about him before. “So you need to smell cooking to wake up?”

He nodded. “And not just any cooking, I need my mom’s cooking.”

“How strange.”

“It’s just one of those little things,” he said off-handedly. “What’s the next question?”

Kirigiri’s hands swayed at her sides as they walked. They were nearing the intersection where they had to part now. A sinking feeling formed at the pit of her stomach. She needed to hurry with her following questions.

“Um, what was the first thing you said to someone else that morning? And who was that person?”

“Huh,” he paused, trying to recollect the memory. “I’m not entirely sure… But I think it was ‘No, mom. I’m seventeen’.”

“How did _that_ come about?”

“She asked if I wanted to bring a juice pack to school.”

She let out a short laugh. “I wasn’t aware that juice packs had age restrictions nowadays.”

“I—come on! It was a grape-flavored juice pack!” He took his hands out of his pockets and flung them in the air. “Did you really think I’d want to be seen in school with that?”

“You are quite baby-faced. I have confidence you’ll be able to pull it off.”

“Well that’s great to hear,” he said, rolling his eyes. But he was smiling to show that he meant no ill will. They reached the intersection now. Kirigiri found that she dreaded to say goodbye. They stopped walking and faced each other, the sun still high up in the sky and shining down on Naegi’s still smiling face.

“Well, my house is this way,” she muttered, jerking her thumb in the direction behind her. 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “So, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

Her hands were warm inside her black leather gloves, her fingers trembling to hold onto something. She clenched them, the tips of her fingers digging into her palms so that she was sure that her fingernails still left crescent moon etchings even through the leather barriers. It wasn’t working. Her fingers were still restless, unable to stop moving. She repeated the action in an effort to calm them down. She didn’t even notice that she had been so focused in accomplishing this task that she was gritting her teeth in concentration. It wasn’t until Naegi shot her a concerned look that she became aware.

“Hey,” he said, an easygoing grin on his face, “It’s alright.” He brought his hands forward and grabbed both of hers, twining their fingers together. Shots sparked up Kirigiri’s arms at the touch as the restless feeling in her hands dissipated and was satisfied. She pressed her palms with his and released a barely audible sigh.

“I still don’t know,” she spoke, only so that she could have something else to listen to other than the pounding inside her chest.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know what?”

“Why you forgot your bike. That day. On the day of the investigation.”

“Oh.” He blushed. His thumbs stroked the sides of Kirigiri’s hands in what was probably an absentminded manner, but it increased the fuzzy sensations in her stomach anyway. “It’s cause I was too excited to be with you. It completely slipped my mind.”

She froze, not exactly believing what she had just heard. “Oh?” There was a buildup of nerves stuck in her throat that she swallowed down. “I mean, _oh._ ”

It was difficult to imagine his face going any redder than its current state. “Y-yeah.”

“I was completely off track, then.”

“It’s fine.”

“Naegi?”

“Yeah?”

Her eyes swept around their surroundings before settling on him again. “If it’s okay, I’d like to go to your house.”

His eyes went wide. He blinked a couple of times before speaking. “I-y-yeah, it’s definitely okay!” 

Naegi didn’t budge an inch from his spot.

“Uh, should we get going?” Kirigiri prodded.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, of course.” His foot lifted off the ground and pointed in the other direction. He let go of Kirigiri’s hands and started to walk.

The purple-haired detective fell into step beside him. By that time the sun was already starting to set and the air began to cool. It was a silent walk to Naegi’s house with nothing but the sounds of their feet pounding against the pavement and the occasional car engine to disrupt it. Kirigiri kept close to Naegi’s side, their swinging arms brushing. It was a strange feeling, the want to be in close proximity to another person, and to stay that way. She never felt it with anyone else, but she did so strongly when it was with Naegi. It was as if she was afraid that he would run off if she stood a little distance away, and it surprised her to realize that that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

She clutched the sleeve of his jacket, her fingers hovering just over his elbow. He did not appear to be fazed by this, so she kept her hold. Their arms were pressed together now, and they matched their pacing with each other to keep up a rhythm that would apply some level of coordination to their walk. By the time the rays of the sun peeked out just above the tops of the houses that surrounded them, they had reached the front door of Naegi’s house.

He opened the door and the sight that greeted them as they entered was a pajama-clad Komaru Naegi walking down the stair steps. Kirigiri dropped her hand and Naegi walked off to the side to take off his shoes. She followed suit, unzipping her boots and setting them down next to his shoes.

“Mom!” Komaru yelled in the direction of the kitchen, “Onii-chan has a friend over!”

Naegi paled and frowned at his sister. “You didn’t have to yell that! I was gonna tell her myself.”

“Too late,” she replied, grinning smugly.

His mother’s footsteps could be heard already, approaching them at a hurried pace. “Oh! Is it that pretty lavender girl again?” She burst into the room, wiping her damp hands on her apron and greeted Kirigiri with a huge smile, one that was so reminiscent of her son’s. “Oh, hello! It sure is nice to see you again!”

Kirigiri couldn’t help but smile back. It was polite, after all. “Likewise, Mrs. Naegi.”

“Well what’re you two standing over there for? Come on in!”

They stepped into the living room. Komaru flopped on her stomach on the sofa, her hand grabbing for the TV remote on the floor. Naegi and Kirigiri had no choice but to sit next to each other on the floor, not that either of them minded.

“You should stay for dinner, Kirigiri,” said Naegi’s mother.

“Oh no, I don’t want to intrude,” the detective replied in a polite tone.

The mother waved her hand dismissively. “You aren’t intruding on anything. We’d love to have you.”

“Only if it isn’t too much trouble, then.”

“Ah, then it’s settled! I’ll have dinner ready in a few,” she replied and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Komaru flipped the channels quickly, unable to settle on any show to watch. It seemed that she wasn’t in a talkative mood. They could hear the sound of pots and silverware from the other room and Kirigiri noted the smell of butter and sautéed onions that hung in the air. She breathed in deeply and her stomach growled in response.

“You were right,” she said softly so that only Naegi could hear, “The smell of your mother’s cooking is heavenly.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I love it.”

They didn’t say anything more than that. They watched the show that Komaru finally settled on—a cartoon about a bunch of kids fighting aliens in outer space. Kirigiri was completely at ease and even laughed a few times at the jokes cracked in the cartoon. 

“You seem to be in a really good mood right now,” Naegi said, bumping gently into her side.

She turned to face him, but was met with the sight of several purple strands that blocked her view of him. Naegi let out a soft chuckle and brought up a hand to sweep her hair behind her ear. The tingling sensation in her stomach erupted again and did not cease as his wrist settled on her shoulder, his hand gently cradling the side of her head. Kirigiri blinked a couple of times to clear her thoughts enough to form a proper reply. “I _am_ in a good mood,” she said.

The moment was interrupted by Naegi’s mom announcing that dinner was ready. The three kids stood up to gather at the dining table. Kirigiri sat down beside Naegi and across his mother. The food was set on the table, all steamy and appetizing. Komaru licked her lips and grabbed her chopsticks, only to have her hand swatted away by her mother. “Komaru-chan, you know the rule!”

She grumbled and put her hand away. “But I’m _so_ hungry!”

“It’ll only be for a few, sweetheart. Your dad should be home any minute now.” said her mother as she shot a smile at Kirigiri. “It’s a rule that we should always wait until everyone’s at the table before we eat.”

Kirigiri nodded in understanding. “That’s really sweet,” she remarked.

Sure enough, the front door opened and Naegi’s dad announced his arrival to the house. He stepped inside the room and when he spotted Kirigiri, his eyebrows shot up to hide behind his dark brown fringe. “I see we have a guest.”

“Yeah, dad,” Naegi piped up before Komaru could say anything. “This is Kyouko Kirigiri, a classmate of mine.”

“Good evening, sir,” she greeted, about to stand up. For she was used to introducing herself with a professional formality when she was on a case. Naegi’s father gestured for her to remain in her seat.

“Nah, you just sit down and eat. I’m so starved that I don’t even have time to shake your hand anymore.” The moment he took his seat at the head of the table, Komaru grabbed her chopsticks and started taking food from the center and transferring them to her mouth.

They all began to eat. Naegi’s dad opened the conversation with a story about the people at his work place. By the way he mentioned his co-workers names off-handedly, it appeared that everyone was already familiar with who was whom, leaving Kirigiri the only person clueless about anything. But the sounds of their laughter ringing out and filling the room left her with such a lighthearted feeling that she didn’t mind. She ate her food in silence and listened intently as well.

After that, Komaru took over the conversation and told stories of her own. She did so with such glee and enthusiasm. All the others laughed heartily even though what she said wasn’t that funny. Even after all the food was gone, they remained at the table for a few minutes and told even more stories. Kirigiri found herself laughing along, albeit a bit more reserved.

“So, uh, Kirigiri,” Naegi’s dad said once their laughters had died down and Naegi’s mother and Komaru began clearing the table. “I should apologize. We were so busy talking about ourselves and left you out.”

“It’s quite alright, sir. I enjoyed listening to your tales,” Kirigiri replied truthfully.

“Well, tell us about yourself then. Got any hobbies or stuff? Strange interests maybe?”

Naegi choked on the water he’d been drinking. He set down his glass and cleared his throat. “Dad, I don’t think she—”

“No, it’s fine, Naegi,” she said, stopping him. “I do have a hobby, sir. I like collecting rocks.”

The older man’s brows furrowed. “Rocks? You one of those science geeks, then?”

“I guess you can say that,” she said, nodding.

“Hm. Well, that’s really peculiar.”

Naegi let out an amused snort. “You have no idea, dad.”

“I’m an old man,” he replied in defense, standing up and patting his inflated stomach. “I’ve no idea what you kids are up to these days. In my days it was flared pant bottoms and forks stuck into afros. You could be into sharpshooting or duck pin bowling for all I know.”

“On the contrary, sir,” Kirigiri found herself saying amusedly, “Not that I mind a little gun shooting or bowling, but I’m also a detective.”

She watched as the older man stiffened and his wide brown eyes settled on her. Beside her, Naegi stopped breathing.

“What, like those escape room games they’re setting up in amusement parks nowadays? Where you dress up in a pipe and deerstalker hat and solve puzzles and you have an hour to get yourself out?”

Kirigiri nodded. “A bit like that. I have found myself in locked rooms before, though there hadn’t been any time restriction, and there was quite a bit more blood.”

The adult’s eyes shifted from her to Naegi and back to her again, his mouth agape. “A-ah…” he said, stunned. He finally settled his gaze on Naegi and remained there as he spoke. “You’ve an interesting friend here, Makoto.”

“I-I uhh…” he stammered and looked at Kirigiri in desperation. “Should I have mentioned that she’s the SHSL Detective?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kirigiri cut in to save him all the trouble. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. I might have overstepped my boundaries.”

“What?” replied the adult as he looked at her again. “Actually, it’s really interesting. I’m very curious now. _Very_ curious.”

“Dad…”

“But I’ve a lot of work to do for tonight, so my questions will have to wait,” he said as he loosened his necktie and raised an eyebrow in Naegi’s direction. “So uh, when will you be coming back?”

Komaru let out a snicker. Naegi turned beet red and stood up too. “We’ll be in my room if you need us. I-I mean, we’ll be… I’ll leave the door open!” He tapped Kirigiri on the shoulder, motioning for her to follow and he took quick long strides up the stairs, leaving his family’s loud laughter behind them.

It was a lot more silent in Naegi’s room. Being here a second time, Kirigiri noted the few things that changed since her last visit. She took a seat on the floor in the middle of the room, just like before. Naegi sat down beside her.

“Sorry about my parents. And Komaru. And uhh, yeah, they can be quite the handful.” He scratched the back of his neck, his face still tinged with pink.

“You have a very happy family.”

“Yeah. It’s kinda annoying actually.”

“I didn’t know what that felt like until now,” she whispered.

Naegi froze. His hand hovered above hers, which was pressed flat on the floor, hesitating before placing it on top. His fingers went to slide down to the spaces between hers. “Is that true?”

She nodded. “When I get home, there’s no scent of a home cooked meal in the air. I usually eat alone, and even when I eat with someone else, nobody wants to tell any stories.” 

“What about your parents?”

“The Headmaster doesn’t live with us. And my mother has been gone for a long time now.”

“Oh.”

His hand began to move on top of hers, his fingers trailing up the back of her hand. Up it went until it reached her wrist. It slid down again, back to the tips of her fingers. She sighed deeply.

“Can I ask you something?” Naegi whispered, the uncertainty evident in his tone.

She swallowed. “Alright.”

“Why do you always wear gloves?”

She stiffened. A weight dropped to the pit of her stomach as her thoughts went rushing again, trying to choose an answer that was appropriate but wasn’t explicitly truthful. She licked her dry lips. His hand stilled.

“It’s a reminder,” she said, her shoulders heaving with the depth of her breathing. Her gaze was fixed on the carpeted floor. “I’ve done a mistake. A huge one. These gloves make sure that I will never forget that.”

He nodded and didn’t say anything. She released the breath she’d been holding, grateful that he didn’t ask for more.

However, at the moment she wanted nothing more than for the gloves to be off. Of course, she still couldn’t show him what exactly she was hiding inside them. Her profession was fair territory, but her hands were another story entirely. But what she really wanted was to feel Naegi’s hand in hers, to touch bare skin and feel the emanating heat of comfort and acceptance that he exuded. She wanted to know what it felt like to not be alone. She wanted to feel loved. She wanted to _feel._

His fingers began to move again, trailing up hers, grazing past the rows of gems that adorned her glove, hovering over her wrist, and disappearing inside the sleeve of her jacket. When they reached the edge of her glove, he stopped.

His eyes found hers, conveying a single request.

She nodded.

His fingers moved up to the space where her wrist and forearm met and settled there. It wasn’t much, but it was actual skin now and it filled Kirigiri with a wave of relief that she almost started crying. She was a mess of thoughts and feelings and emotions, a muddle of each and every way that he affected her. She couldn’t understand why he was still looking at her as if she were the only thing to focus on when the truth was that she wasn’t even discernible anymore. She was a huge mess.

She leaned into his side and set her head on his shoulder, her nose pressing into the side of his neck. “Thank you, Naegi.”

“F-for what?” he stuttered out.

“For showing me what it’s like to have a family. For sharing me yours, even just for a few minutes.”

“Don’t be so gloomy,” he said, “It’s not like you’re never gonna see them again.”

“ _Am_ I going to see them again?”

Naegi was quiet for a few seconds. “I’d like for you to see them again,” he said shyly.

She hid her smile on his shoulder. “Okay,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

His hand gripped hers, their fingers locking smoothly. There was no hesitation anymore. It was muscle memory. It made sense for their hands to find the other. There was no use in their hands being apart for a second. 

“Kirigiri?”

“Hm?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder so they could talk face to face. She tilted her head as she waited for him to speak again.

He blinked rapidly and bit his lip, stammering out a few other words before a coherent sentence could be made. Finally, he sighed and looked at Kirigiri with all seriousness. “I know you said that we should wait until the case is over, but I can’t see the point in doing that now. I’m sure. I’m sure now what I’m going to do and there’s no changing my mind. So I’m gonna ask you right now.”

Her lips parted slightly. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she watched him, transfixed by his words and his movements. She found herself giving him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand.

“Onii-chan!” Komaru appeared at the doorway, slamming a hand on the wooden door. Naegi and Kirigiri jumped up and broke apart. “Mom said it’s getting late and your friend has to go.”

Kirigiri shook herself out of her trance and stood up. “Yes, I will be right down.” With a brief, stoic glance at Naegi, she walked out of the room with him in tow.

It was only when she reached the front door that she noticed her hands were empty and there was no weight on her back. “Oh,” she remarked, looking to Naegi, “I forgot my bag in your room.”

He nodded. “Just stay here. I’ll get it myself.” She watched as he turned back up the stairs and disappeared into his room.

“So!” Komaru yelled, appearing at her side suddenly. “Hi! I know we already met, but we haven’t really talked.”

She shot her a polite smile. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, actually. But we’re on a tight schedule right now, so here’s the deal,” her eyes shone with amusement as her short hair bobbed up and down and she bounced on her toes. “I’m gonna ask you a series of questions and you’re gonna answer them as quickly as you can. If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Uh—”

“First question! Is your dad really the headmaster of Hope’s Peak?”

“Yes, actually, but I—”

“Question two! Is it true that you’re the head of a secret cult? The Illuminati maybe? Or the Freemasons? Or any other quasi-religious-slash-anti-religious sector?”

“What?” Komaru was talking so fast that Kirigiri could barely keep up.

“Where’d you get those boots? They are _crazy_ cute!”

“Actually, they’re from—”

“Are you onii-chan’s girlfriend?”

She froze and found herself staring into the triumphant smile of Komaru Naegi. She opened her mouth to speak, but Naegi appeared at her side before she could make a sound.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the bag. She took it from him with deft hands. “I’ll walk you out.”

Kirigiri proceeded to the front door, where she paused to put on her boots and sling her backpack over her shoulders. The last thing she saw before she exited the house was Komaru’s knowing smile, flashed with all the smugness of a child who got the most candy in Halloween.

Naegi walked with her until they reached the pavement, where forth it became evident that they really did have to part ways. He turned shy again, his confidence from when they were in his room dissipating. “Hey, Kirigiri? About that promise we made, you’ll really do that, right? If you think you’re in any danger, you’ll tell me immediately, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” she replied.

“Okay. Okay, that’s good,” he bit his lip and sighed. “Because I can tell that we’re nearing the end of this. And whatever happens from now on, we’re in this together. Okay?”

Warmth spread from her stomach and rose up to her chest. “Okay.”

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. So I’ll do my best to prevent that.” He paced restlessly on his spot, his fingers wringing in front of him. She followed him with her gaze. His eyes met hers and he stopped pacing, stepping close to her until she could feel his breathing on her cheek. And in a swift motion, he stood on his toes and pressed a kiss to her forehead, just above the space between her eyebrows.

He stood back, blushing furiously. “Yeah. Good night.” And he turned around and brisk walked back to his home.

Kirigiri stood still, her heart heavy with sudden sadness as she watched his retreating form disappear behind closed doors. She stared at her gloved hand, the one that he held when they were in his room. She stared at it with disdain and pressed her lips into a tight line. She lifted her glove slightly and retrieved a small piece of paper that had been under it the entire time.

She unfolded it and studied the note another time. It was the same scrap of paper and the same loopy handwriting, and even after reading it so many times, it never failed to fill her stomach with dread. “Naegi,” she whispered hoarsely into the still air, “I’m so sorry.”

_You’re getting warmer._

_Saturday 5:30pm. Burned down paint factory._

_Be there or despair._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos would be lovely, sweets!  
> THIS FIC IS ALMOST AT 100 COMMENTS AND I AM FREAKING O U T  
> Also, friendly reminder that i still have a tumblr:  
> leanncar.tumblr.com


	24. Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondo has relationship problems and vents them out. Kirigiri's been keeping a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Just in case you thought I'd given up on this story well, I actually haven't! Updates will be a lot slower though, just please bear with me!

It was a Friday morning and Chihiro Fujisaki was only a few seconds away from bursting out of her seat and screaming in agitation. Mondo Oowada sat in front of her, his huge form blocking her view of the blackboard but over time, she’d grown to adjust to that. He sat with his chin on his hand and his face turned to the window beside him, looking distant.

“Mon-chan,” she called, snapping the man out of his reverie, “You screwed up, didn’t you?”

Oowada didn’t move from his position, but his eyes snapped to look at the programmer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You and Ishimaru haven’t talked at all yesterday and today.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Fujisaki kicked the leg of his chair, the force of which caused the gang leader to jolt a bit in his seat. He frowned. “I told you, I don’t know!”

“Liar! You did something, didn’t you? You’ve been so out of it the past few weeks, but lately you just look insane.”

His eyebrows shot up at this and Fujisaki heard him mutter something along the lines of _Oh god, I knew it._

“You’ve been thinking about him a lot, haven’t you?” she said.

Oowada blinked. “Wha—”

“Be honest. Seriously, Mondo, why do you even bother hiding stuff from me?”

Oowada raised his head from his hand and twisted on his seat to face her, his expression grave. “Ever since that day in the hospital, I haven’t been able to think of anything else. Are you happy now?”

“No!” she huffed, crossing her arms on her chest. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Fujisaki raised an eyebrow.

Oowada sighed. “Okay, maybe I did do _something._ “

“Out with it, big boy. Because I can’t take another second of you and Ishimaru staring longingly at the other from opposite ends of the room, and _never doing anything about it._ Or so help me god, I’ll go fix this myself!”

The gang leader went silent and took a quick glance at the spot where Ishimaru sat before turning back to her, his expression softened. “He’s been lookin’ at me?”

“What happened to you?”

“Shut up.”

Fujisaki let out a teasing laugh. “See, this is how I know you got it so bad for him. Now, tell me what happened. You confessed to him didn’t you?”

“What?” Oowada leaned back, as if physically repulsed by the statement. “Nah, man. Mondo Oowada does _not_ confess. Not to anyone.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” she said in a deadpan.

“No, I-I didn’t confess! I—” Oowada glanced left and right and heaved out a sigh. He then beckoned Fujisaki to come closer, and she did. He spoke in a low voice, “We kissed, alright?”

Wide-eyed Fujisaki went still and did not move for the next few seconds.

A concerned look crossed over Oowada’s features. He poked Fujisaki’s arm and she swayed lightly but otherwise did not make any movement. “Hey, come on. Chi, you’re doing the freaky freak look again. I told you not to do that.”

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “So you kissed him. When did this happen?”

“Wednesday, I think.”

“Right. Two days ago, you kissed him. And then what?”

“I sort of… Panicked and ran out the room and haven’t spoken to him since…”

The gang leader didn’t even have enough time to duck out of the incoming textbook that slammed on his cheek. When Oowada caught sight again of her face, she was seething.

“I want to call you so many bad names right now but I can’t so I’ll just go with calling you a cowardly butthole.”

“Look, I didn’t know, alright?” he defended, rubbing his cheek. “I didn’t know that he’d kiss back! I didn’t know any of this would happen. And I admit that I was really fuckin’ stupid, but _I didn’t know_.“

Fujisaki heaved her back on her seat, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Mondo, Mondo. What on earth have you done?”

“Why is this such a big deal with you?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I already told you, I didn’t know anything.”

“No, not that thing. I meant the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“So you don’t know?”

“How am I s’posed to know what I don’t know?”

Fujisaki gasped, her hand clasping on her mouth. “Oh my gosh, you really don’t know!”

“Then tell me!”

“It’s Ishimaru’s birthday next week.”

The face that Oowada made at this statement would have been comical if it weren’t for how grave the situation was. His mouth gaped open a few times and there was an intensity in his eyes that Fujisaki hadn’t seen before. She smiled triumphantly.

“Fuck. Why don’t I ever do anything right?”

“I told you.”

“Why is it that when I fuck something up, I fuck it up in the worst way possible?”

“I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t care. I just want you to stop crying over your boo boos and go fix this.”

He stared at her helplessly. “You seriously think that I can come up with a way to fix this? Chi, look at me.”

Fujisaki slapped a hand to her forehead and sighed in frustration at her distressed friend. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Her eyes went over to the prefect at the front of the room, bent over his desk, scrawling furiously on his notebook. “The situation is worse than I thought. But I think we can work something out. Leave it to me.”

A couple of seats away, Kirigiri sat with her palms face down on the desk and back straight. She appeared to be deep in thought. Naegi walked over to her with a smile on his face. “Good morning, Kirigiri.”

The detective made a nod in his direction. “Likewise, Naegi.”

Naegi had no idea what to say now. He and Kirigiri had been on good terms since that night in his house, but even now he still found it difficult to strike a conversation with her. Of course, once they did start talking it would seem that Kirigiri liked his presence, but the problem was that he found this so hard to believe that he kept thinking that at any moment she’d turn cold towards him again. Especially since she rarely was the one to initiate a conversation between them. It was difficult for him to pinpoint when he was wanted or not.

The calm mask that she usually wore was in place again, not that he expected that to change. Her ability to remain her composure was one of the things he loved about her after all. “Hey, uh,” he began, and suddenly his heart beat loudly in his chest and his palms became clammy. Kirigiri looked up at him as she waited for him to speak, “I don’t know if you’d be interested, and uh, come to think of it, you probably won’t be, but here I am asking anyway.  You’re free to say no if you don’t want to, it’s just that I—”

“Naegi,” she cut through his rambling and Naegi was rewarded with the hint of an amused smile playing on her lips. “What is the question?”

“I was… wondering if I—I mean, if _you_ … you would like to watch a movie tomorrow? With me? Maybe? If you do that kind of thing?” He let out a nervous laugh. “If not, we can do something else. Or if you don’t want to go, just say the word and I’ll uh… I’ll stop.” His voice on the last word dropped to a whisper as he assessed the sudden change on Kirigiri’s expression.

Her hand tightened into a fist before relaxing again. “I can’t,” she replied.

“Oh,” he tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Did he really expect her to go on a date with him? Pssh, how preposterous! “I-It’s okay if you don’t want to go. I’ll just…”

She shook her head. “No, no. It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s that I _can’t_ go.”

He couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of hope surge up in him. “Oh?”

Kirigiri laughed, but it was cut short as she covered her mouth with her hand and glanced around the room. “Sorry. I should be more fair to you. You’ve been very nice to me and I don’t mean to be rude.”

“No, no, you aren’t being rude at all!” What on earth made her think that? To be honest, it was a miracle she was even talking to him. 

“It’s just…” Kirigiri stared at the wooden desk as she spoke, “I have something to do tomorrow. Work. And the work always comes first. Above anything. I hope you understand.”

“You work on Saturdays?” he asked, scratching his head.

She nodded, still with her head bowed. “Yeah, I… It’s an investigation, and the informant said tomorrow is her only available day.”

“Is this for a case or for _the_ case?” he said, voice turning grave.

“It’s uh, it’s a case,” she said, looking up at him, but her eyes looked empty to Naegi. “Simple one. Theft. Nothing to be shaken about.”

“I thought you said you only worked on murder cases?”

“It’s a bit rough in the office at the moment,” she said quickly, “With Detective Inuzuka’s death and all. We’re all grieving. I’m helping out in any way I can.”

This, to him, definitely sounded fishy, but he chose not to dwell on it. If Kirigiri wanted to keep things from him, then it wasn’t in his rights to pry. It’s not like she was his girlfriend or anything. Far from that, actually. They were more like… civil co-workers. Yeah. Definitely that.

“Okay,” he said, nodding, “I should get back to my seat now. Ha-have a good day.” 

He returned to his seat and noticed a stiff-backed Ishimaru beside him. He turned to the hall monitor, noting the change in his composure and the dazed look in his eyes. Naegi leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Ishimaru. Hey, are you alright?”

The prefect shook his head from side to side, not turning to look back at him.

“What’s the matter?” Naegi asked.

“Naegi-kun, am I a bad friend?”

“What? No, of course not! Who told you that?”

“No one,” Ishimaru sighed, “I just felt it.”

“What do you feel?”

“Like I’m not wanted. Wherever I go, I’m not wanted,” he said in the same monotone. His red eyes were fixed on a spot on the blackboard. He looked absolutely distraught. “I feel that I am an unnecessary addition to the world.”

“That’s not true,” Naegi said with conviction, feeling a pang of sympathy for his friend. “I don’t know what caused you to think that, but you’re wrong. You’re a good friend. You’re wanted by many people and you’re not a waste of space.”

“Your optimism is always a nice touch. Sadly, right now it does nothing for me.”

“No, don’t talk like that! Ishimaru, we’re your friends, remember?”

“Are you really? Or are you just obligated to accept my friendship because you want something from me?”

Naegi paused to think. “I—what?” 

Ishimaru shook his head. “No, that wasn’t addressed to you. I’m sorry.”

Naegi was about to ask something else, but at that moment the teacher entered the classroom and class had to start, so he set that aside for now and thought of more important matters. Come lunch time, he sat next to Fujisaki. Oowada sat alone on his side of the table since Ishimaru was nowhere to be found. Did something happen between those two? Fujisaki leaned closer to him and whispered, “We’ve got a situation here. Will you be willing to help me fix it?”

 

-

 

Naegi and Kirigiri walked home together that afternoon, but they didn’t talk much. It seemed that the detective wasn’t in much of a talkative mood. When they reached the intersection wherein they had to part ways, Naegi stopped walking and put a hand lightly on her elbow. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You seem a bit down.”

“I’m fine,” she said, “I just have a lot of things in my mind right now.”

“It’s the case, isn’t it? I can understand why it would tire you out.” He couldn’t imagine the amount of pressure she must be going through, to have to hunt down a notorious serial killer who had killed someone that she knew. Still, she stood strong and promised to bring justice to the situation. Admirable couldn’t even begin to describe what she was.

“Yeah, it must be the case, yeah.”

“It’ll be over soon. I’m sure of it. Until then, take care of yourself, alright?” 

Her purple eyes pierced through him, but this time they weren’t sharp or judging as they usually were. Her eyes contained warmth and the barest hint of desperation. What was going on?

“Naegi,” she said, and it amazed him how the sound of her voice when she says his name can still cause many inexplicable sensations to unfurl in him. She stepped closer to him until he could feel her breathing on his face. She was taller than him by a few centimeters, but he didn’t mind it. Her eyes took over his entire field of vision. He gazed at them, down the bridge of her nose, and down still. He licked his lips in a partly unconscious move. His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her to start speaking again. “Tomorrow night, will you… Will you come to my house?”

He gulped. “Yeah, of course. W-what’s up?”

“Nothing at all,” she whispered, her eyes flicking down to his lips before going back up to meet his gaze, “Just check up on me. I-I might need company.”

He nodded too enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I’ll be there.”

His breath was becoming heady and his thoughts a blur. And just when he thought she’d come any closer, she stepped back. The air was suddenly very cold. “I look forward to it, then,” she said.

Naegi flushed and stammered as he spoke, “M-me too…” _Idiot!_ Did he really think that she was going to…?

“Good bye,” she called and took two more steps back. Naegi made a weak wave.

“K-Kirigiri,” he found himself calling out before he could stop it, “I don’t like seeing you distressed. And I know it’s none of my business but if it helps at all, please do what makes you happy. You keep doing things for other people and it’s like you’re not leaving any happiness for yourself.”

She froze as if his words struck her. “What makes you think that I—”

“I don’t know, but I can tell. And just… I’m not judging you or anything, but that much gloom around you can’t be healthy.”

“Gloom?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I see it on you a lot. I’ve no idea what it is but you always have it. And I’m here to tell you that a little hope and optimism sometimes never hurts. Do what makes you happy. Smile more. I really like seeing you smile,” he finished with a half-grin of his own, “That’s it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Naegi turned around but was stopped by a force on his arm tugging him back. He turned to face Kirigiri and was met with her lips crashing against his. His eyes shot wide and all he could see was her dark eyelashes delicately pressing onto his cheeks. Her lips were soft and smooth, like honey sliding down a glassy surface. He could smell her too. She smelled of ink and vanilla shampoo. Her hand curled around his wrist tightly, as if she was afraid that he might pull away. Not that she had anything to worry about. The chances of that happening were nil. 

She pulled back and rested her forehead against his, her eyes still closed. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck and she sighed deeply. What she said next was nothing that Naegi expected. “How do I look?” she murmured, her lips brushing against his as she uttered certain syllables, and each graze brought about a bout of fireworks in Naegi’s stomach.

Naegi’s heart wouldn’t stop hammering. He smiled nervously as he gazed at the beautiful detective standing before him, who had just kissed him, and asked him how she looked.

“Happy,” he replied, taking her hand in his.

 

-

 

The next day found Kyouko Kirigiri standing in the middle of her office. It was Saturday, the day the killer set for them to meet. She will finally uncover the mystery of who this killer was. She was frightened. For the first time, she had no clear plan of what to do when she got there.

The Sagittarii Killer was unlike all the other killers she’d handled before. No other criminal challenged her like this. No other criminal performed crimes that were so suited to her. It was as if the entire case was tailor-made for her alone. The perfect puzzle. The perfect game. It thrilled Kirigiri to work on its complexity. And now that she was close to uncovering the truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to end or not.

She shook her head. People were dying. Of course it had to end. Before someone else got hurt. Someone she cared about. Targeting Inuzuka was a close call. She can’t let the killer go anywhere beyond that.

She opened her drawers and took out two knives. She tucked them in the garter belts under her skirt and practiced walking without questionable gait. Lastly, she took her black notebook, the most important thing to bring on cases, and put it inside her blazer.

Whatever will happen now, there was no turning back. She walked out into the pavement, bathed under the hues of a sun about to set, and braced herself as she marched to the paint factory.

 

-

 

Kiyotaka Ishimaru sat down on his couch with his knees folded under him. He looked out the window and saw trees and thought about how they looked like worn down broccoli. Specks of green littered the air in the form of falling leaves. Ever since the paint factory down the street burned down, the houses in their block seemed to have lost all life. The trees sensed this somehow, and adjusted to the surroundings accordingly.

“The trees look lonely,” he heard his mother’s voice from her spot in the corner of the room, “Don’t they?”

“Worse than that, mother. They look dead.”

“They’re only dead when they’ve fallen, Kiyotaka.”

Ishimaru took his eyes off the window to look at his mother, who had her frail hands wrapped around the piece of green fabric that she so obviously treasured. “Mother,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice laced with uncertainty, “Do you know how I feel right now?”

The corners of her lips turned up. “I always know how you are feeling,”

“Then what can you say to me now?” he asked. His tone was fragile and his conviction fleeting. “I need to hear what you have to say.”

“Do you remember when you were a child and you were so adamant in attending all of your grandfather’s press conferences and speeches?”

He nodded. It wasn’t a memory that he liked to recall, but one that stuck with him nonetheless. 

“They always ended very late, but you kept saying that you want to stay no matter how tired you were. And by ten in the evening you’d ask for me to carry you and you’d fall asleep in my arms and I’d drive us home past midnight.”

“Yes. I remember all of that.”

“And during those hours, the roads were nearly empty. Not a sound can be heard save for the occasional humming for the car engine. And then we’d see a stoplight flashing red and I’d stop the car and wait for it to go green.”

“And all the other cars behind you would ignore the red light and shoot you weird looks for stopping,” Ishimaru added, nodding. “I know all of this. What’s your point?”

“So you remember all of that. Do you remember when you asked me _why_ those other people did that? What was my reply?”

He didn’t miss a beat in his response. “You said, ‘Son, if you’re going to follow the rules, prepare to be lonely’.”

“ _That_ was the point.”

Ishimaru stood up from his seat and walked over to the long untouched stack of DVDs they had next to the television. He ran his finger through various titles, evaluating each one. “Come here,” he said.

His mother stood up and sat on the couch. “What are you looking for?”

“Let’s watch a movie. What do you want?”

“Kiyotaka,” she said, surprised, “We haven’t watched a movie together since you were a child.”

“I know. Let’s do it now.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Please choose a movie now.”

“Is something wrong?”

Ishimaru turned back to face her, huffing. “I just want company, alright?”

She contemplated her son for a while and nodded.

He went back to searching through the stack of DVDs. As a child, he loved cuddling up to his mother’s side on the sofa while they watched musicals. His father wasn’t keen on this little hobby of his, saying he was much better off reading political books and studying, but his mother had always defended him, saying that he needed to take time for leisure every once and a while. 

He hadn’t taken time for leisure in nearly ten years.

“What movie would you like to watch?” he asked.

She hummed in thought. “ _Grease_? I haven’t seen that in a long time.”

Ishimaru’s hands stilled. He only wanted to watch a movie so he could take his mind off of things. And he wasn’t too keen on the idea of seeing one where the leading man was a handsome biker gang leader with a ridiculous pompadour. He shook his head. “M-maybe there’s something else that you want?”

“What’s wrong with _Grease_?”

He ran his fingers through the stack and picked one out of random. “Let’s just go with this one.”

“What is it?”

“ _Moulin Rouge_.”

She smiled. “Oh, yes. I’d rather watch that one.”

Ishimaru barely kept himself from heaving a sigh of relief as he popped the DVD into the player. He took a seat next to his mother, surprising her when he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. A light feeling took over him as the familiar tunes of _Nature Boy_ rang through the room and he even found himself humming along, surprised that he still remembered all the words.

 

-

 

The colors of the walls and the floor were so similar that it was difficult to determine where each of them ended and began. Charred black and gray from the fire that took place previously, they stood around Kirigiri, who entered the factory with bated breaths. The air was still pungent with traces of smoke combined with the ashes that littered the floor and flew in accordance to the will of the winds and made breathing more difficult. Her shoes made no sound as she stepped in. There was no sound made from her surroundings either, but she could sense a presence the moment she set foot in the room.

She looked around. All items in the room had been burned or damaged beyond repair. It was the loneliest place she’d ever seen. She circled the room and inspected every nook and cranny, trying to get familiar with it.

And then someone was behind her. She didn’t see the person nor did she hear them approaching. She just _knew._

Kirigiri turned around and was met with the steel gray eyes of Mukuro Ikusaba, handgun placed gracefully in her grasp, pointed down on the floor for the time being. The soldier wore an indiscernible mask that betrayed no emotion. She raised her chin up in greeting. “Detective Kirigiri,” she said.

Kirigiri’s brows turned down into a frown as she eyed her opponent from head to toe. “Naegi was right all along,” she said, struck with realization. Ikusaba raised her brows in slight confusion, but otherwise retained her mask. “It’s not you. You’re not the Sagittarii Killer.”

“How do you know?” Ikusaba challenged.

“Because I know how this killer thinks. And it wouldn’t make sense for them to be here. So it’s not you.” Kirigiri put a hand to her chin and forced herself to think. “I had been so convinced…”

“You really are a brilliant detective,” said the soldier, “It’s a shame you’d be dead by the end of the month.”

“I highly doubt that. The Sagittarii Killer loves to play this game with me. I intend to see it through to the very end.”

“There’s a reason why I’m here,” Ikusaba said calmly, “She hates the name ‘Sagittarii Killer’. She prefers to be called The Mastermind.”

Kirigiri put on her best disappointed expression. “That’s not very creative. It lacks specificity. Not very good for a villain name.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be meeting her soon and you can tell her that yourself.”

“I can’t read you,” Kirigiri said, pacing back and forth. “You’re a challenge. What are you thinking about? What’s going on in your mind? Why are you doing this?”

“This is none of your concern. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Ikusaba, you don’t know me. I’m not just a detective, I’m the SHSL Detective. I don’t just catch criminals, I _connect_ with them. I adapt their ways of thinking and make it my own.”

“Empathy. I can understand why that would be useful.”

“And I think there’s only one reason why you’d do this,” Kirigiri continued as if she had not heard her, “The killer is your sister, Junko Enoshima, isn’t it?”

Ikusaba looked as if she’d been struck by lightning. Aware of this little moment of weakness, she drew up her gun and aimed at the detective. Her hands were steady, her gaze innocent, but deadly at the same time. “Not another word, detective.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” Kirigiri stated matter-of-factly, “You’re not that kind of person.”

“What makes you think that? I’m not innocent. I’ve a lot of red on my hands. I can easily add you to the list.”

“You _can_ , but you won’t.”

“I killed Inuzuka. It was quick. Easy. I can do that to you.” Her low, steady voice filled the room and reverberated through the walls. The gun was inches away from Kirigiri’s chest.

“That was a confession. I can turn you in at any moment now, you know.”

Ikusaba nodded. “You _can_ but you won’t. Just as you know me as a criminal, the Mastermind also knows you as a detective. That’s why she chose _you_.”

Kirigiri gritted her teeth and could not form a reply.

“Should you survive this day, expect to be receiving another invite from her soon. Same goes for your little group of misfit friends.”

“My little group of misfit friends are also _your_ little group of misfit friends though, am I right?”

Ikusaba faltered at this, her mask shattering for the shortest of seconds. She brought her other hand to the gun too and spoke with precision. “They do not concern me.”

“You and I both know that’s not true. They do concern you. And one person above all stands out. Or would you like me to spell it out for you?”

“Shut up,” the soldier said in a menacing tone, “I’ll shoot you if you keep talking.”

“I already have you figured out. You won’t be able to forgive yourself if anything were to happen to Naegi. I highly doubt that you would.”

“I told you to shut up! I don’t care about Naegi, or Fujisaki, or Ishimaru, or anyone else. Everything I am, everything I do is for the completion of the Mastermind’s plan: To strike fear and despair into the hearts of every man!”

Kirigiri took a step back, but Ikusaba took one forward to compensate. The detective could barely detect a hint of emotion in her face, but she saw one thing that was for sure: Uncertainty. And the slightest trace of fright.

“Is this what you want to happen, Ikusaba? What Enoshima wants, is this what you want too?”

“More than anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

“You’re right.” Just as Kirigiri was beginning to form a reply to this, a person snuck up from behind her and smothered her mouth with a piece of cloth. Kirigiri struggled to be free of the man’s hold, but she was too weak. Her brain went heavy and her eyelids closed of their own accord. Her knees grew weak and Ikusaba stood over her. And she could see there was only one emotion that the soldier was showing now, and it emanated strongly from the intense look in her eyes: Ikusaba felt guilty.

The world went black in a split second, just right after Kirigiri felt the jolts of pain down her back as she landed on the hard cemented floor.

 

-

 

Halfway through _Moulin Rouge_ , Ishimaru got up from his seat and walked around. “Do you want some of that wheat bread that you like? You always used to have some when we watch movies.”

She nodded. “I’d love some, but we don’t have any.”

Ishimaru was already at the door, lacing his boots. “I have some spare cash right now. I’ll run to the store and get you some. I won’t be long.”

“Are you sure? It’s already late,”

“It won’t be any trouble,” the prefect replied, reassuring her. “The store isn’t that far from here.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Ishimaru made sure to smile back before exiting the room.

 

-

 

When Kirigiri regained consciousness, she was all alone and her notebook was missing from inside her jacket. She patted her hands frantically through all the pockets of her blazer. _This is bad._

She took a look around. Nothing seemed to be amiss. Ikusaba appeared to be gone now. She got up and circled the room once again, just to be sure. A metal desk was pushed to the center of the room and it was enough to catch her eye. On it, lay a green gift box about a square foot in size. She approached the desk with cautious steps, mentally going through all the possibilities about what the box would contain.

When she got close enough, she saw that on top of the box, as if it was used to greet her especially, was the bunny hair clip that Naegi gave Ikusaba. Kirigiri took it in her hands and ran her thumbs over the plastic surface. The bunny was smiling.

She redirected her focus to the box and slowly took off the lid. Inside was a metal head of some cartoon-like bear, its face black on one side and white on the other. Its eyes were bright red and shone through a light source. And when she set the lid down on the desk, the eyes started flashing. _Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Kirigiri let out a gasp and scrambled to get as far away from the box as possible. She twisted and ran, making her way to the exit. Her long hair flew wildly behind her as the beeping got louder and faster until it became a series of clustered beeping sounds that merged into one straight high-pitched tone. She jammed her hands into her ears just moments before staggering impact met her moving body.

The force of the blast was enough to throw her forward, landing on a pile of rubble on one side of the room. Her back burned with pain as she struggled to get back on her feet. The moment her right foot came in contact with the ground, a sharp jolt went up her entire leg and she nearly fell to the floor again. Her ankle was broken and she had only a few seconds to get out of the room before she died of suffocation.

She inhaled and choked on the smoke and dust that shot straight to her lungs. She coughed wildly. There was a hole in the wall in front of her that allowed her to see out into the alley. “H-help…” she called out, choking on cheap and hasty breaths. She got up on her knees and tried to stand once again.

Through the smoky air and the dusty room, through her hearing muffled by the blast that came at her, through the deafening sound of her heartbeat thudding and pounding mercilessly, she looked straight ahead and was met by a familiar pair of eyes.

“K-Kirigiri?” Ishimaru called out in disbelief. “What happened to you?”

“Help me,” she said in between coughing fits, “…Can’t walk…”

Ishimaru put his upper body through the hole and extended his arms to her. “Take my hands.”

She did so and he hoisted her up, put his arms around her waist and helped her to get out of the room. Ishimaru eyed her frantically, but he didn’t have time to ask questions when she suddenly gasped and leapt to her feet, flinching in pain at her broken ankle, but she chose to ignore this. She pointed at somewhere behind Ishimaru. “Get him…”

He turned around and saw a masked man looking straight at them. “Was he the guy that did this to you?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “He has… my… notebook…”

Ishimaru didn’t need to hear another word before he walked to the man and sent a punch straight to his jaw. The masked man flew back, holding his chin, and two other masked attackers appeared behind him. They cornered the two kids, poised to fight.

“Kirigiri, stay behind me,” he said, eyeing up the three men and already calculating the number of moves he’d have to make to take them down and they could escape.

“No,” she replied, appearing beside him with a knife in each hand. “I can fight.”

He nodded, deciding he’d have more time to think about where those knives came from some other time. Two of the men came straight at him, their fists flying. They were frisky fighters who put no thought into their attacks whatsoever, and he dodged them easily. Kirigiri took on one of the men and he kept track of them out of the corner of his eye.

Ishimaru focused on the attacker that had Kirigiri’s notebook. Whatever was in there, it had to be extremely important if it caused Kirigiri to turn into her current state. Anger surged up inside him. Mingled with fury and adrenaline and the sound of his heavy breathing. He roundhouse kicked one of the attackers, causing him to drop to the floor. The other one tackled him from behind, one arm pressed to the back of Ishimaru’s neck and the other on the front, reaching for the elbow in preparation for a chokehold. Ishimaru jabbed an elbow at his abdomen and the assailant’s breath came out in one gasp.

He extricated himself from the hold and while the attacker was gasping for breath, Ishimaru searched through the pocket of his jacket and retrieved Kirigiri’s notebook. Then he turned back to her, who was leaning on the wall and tending to her broken foot. Ishimaru shot her a look in question. “He ran away,” she said, speaking of her attacker.

He nodded and handed her back the notebook. She tucked it in her jacket. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she yelled, “Duck!” 

Ishimaru folded his knees and crouched on the ground as the knife in Kirigiri’s hand went flying, hitting Ishimaru’s masked attacker in the face, cutting through the cloth before clattering to the ground.

The black mask seeped with red as he made to run away. Ishimaru grabbed hold of his mask and tore it off. He caught a quick glimpse of the man’s face before his fist collided with Ishimaru’s face. The hall monitor staggered back, clutching his jaw and the attacker disappeared from view.

They were left alone in the alley, next to a ruined building in the dark of the night. Ishimaru stood still with his mouth agape. “That guy… I know him. He goes to our school. He’s from Hope’s Peak, isn’t he?”

Kirigiri leaned away from the wall and gasped in pain. 

“Oh!” Ishimaru came back to his senses and turned back to her. “We should probably get you to the hospital.” He put one arm around her shoulders and the other at the back of her legs and lifted her up with ease as they fled the scene.

Kirigiri was still weak and her voice was hoarse as she spoke, “Ishimaru… don’t… don’t tell… Naegi… Please.”

The hall monitor kept his gaze on the road ahead of him, puzzled by the fainting detective’s remark.


	25. Acceptance (One)

Kirigiri’s body was laid out on a stretcher the moment Ishimaru set foot in the emergency room. About half a dozen EMT’s came to her aid. Ishimaru explained the situation as briefly as he could and an oxygen mask was placed on her face to alleviate her wheezing.

She was whisked into a room where she could be attended to more fully, her purple eyes hooded as Ishimaru offered her a silent look of concern. He stood dazed in the middle of the room, back at the place with the painfully white walls and floors. It was only when he sat down on an empty chair that he realized that he was in pain too.

“Sir?” A nurse’s voice called out to him and he turned to face her.

“Yes?”

“You have a cut lip and a broken nose. You may want to come with me so we can take care of that.”

Ishimaru nodded dumbly and followed her onto an unoccupied bed in one side of the room. He sat down, his long and tired legs dangling at the side. The nurse prodded at his nose and he winced as a dull throb came off it. He looked down at his shirt and saw specks of blood littering the white surface. His knuckles were grimy, decorated with small bright pink cuts that stung when he thought of them. He could only imagine how awful he looked at the moment, shellshocked and groaning in pain.

After the nurse patched him up, Ishimaru debated on whether he should go home or stay and wait for a report on Kirigiri. He didn’t know if she had any relatives other than the Headmaster, and it’s not like he had a way to contact them either. He’d contact Naegi, since he’d probably want to know about something like this, but she told him not to tell Naegi about any of it. This puzzled him. Why would she not want Naegi to find out?

Plus, there were other things too. What was Kirigiri doing in the burned down paint factory? How did it explode? Was someone out to kill her?

He shuddered. Knowing that she was a detective, he should have already considered the dangers that she was accustomed too, but this was far more than what he expected. What if this was somehow related to the serial killings?

“Sir,” the same nurse that attended to him appeared at his side, her lips pursing with disapproval at the disgruntled teen. “You’re fine. You can go home now.”

He shook his head. “I-If it’s alright, I’d like to stay and see if my friend’s okay.”

The nurse looked on him with apathy, but nodded. “They’re gonna be done with her in a few. You can talk to her for five minutes, after that I’m gonna have to send you out.”

“Thank you.”

She walked away without another word. For the next half hour, Ishimaru sat there alone with his thoughts. The lights in the room were so bright he was squinting. Each minute that passed constricted his lungs further and further until he was so stuffy that he couldn’t bear to sit still. He stood up and walked around. 

When the nurse finally came back to tell him that he could see Kirigiri, he nodded, thanked her promptly, and entered the room that Kirigiri was in. There were other patients as well, all in their own beds and sleeping soundly. It then occurred to Ishimaru as he walked with caution that it was pretty late in the night already.

Kirigiri laid on the bed, a cannula stretched along the expanse of her face, across her nose. Her hazy purple eyes struggled to focus on Ishimaru as he approached. He hesitated slightly before he brought out a hand to brush her bangs aside so that they didn’t obstruct her vision. She let out a soft smile.

“Ishimaru,” she said. Her voice was deep and hoarse and it sparked concern in the hall monitor, but she shook her head, silently telling him that she was fine. “I am sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, confused. “There’s absolutely no reason for you to apologize!”

“I didn’t mean to get you into this mess. You look terrible,”

“You didn’t know. It was a coincidence, and I couldn’t have been able to refuse helping you.” Then he added in a softer tone, “This wasn’t your fault.”

“It is. I have put you in grave danger.” Her eyes closed as she spoke. The corners of her eyelids shone with the beginning of tears. “You’re not safe. She’s going to come for you. You, and Oowada, and Fujisaki, and… and Naegi.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ishimaru, I’m deeply sorry. I did a stupid move. I let her get away.”

“I don’t understand. Who did you let get away?”

“The killer. Well, not exactly the killer, but an accomplice,” Kirigiri sighed, “I should have ended it then and there.”

Ishimaru looked down at his feet. “If you already know who the killer is, why don’t you turn them in? Justice must be served!”

“I wish it was that easy,” she replied, “But I know that if I do that, there’s a big possibility that we’d all be dead soon after. We didn’t win the fight in there, Ishimaru. They let us escape. They’re toying with us. So no, this must end with one way only: the killer’s death.”

“Kirigiri, how do you—” the prefect’s brows furrowed. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “How do you know all this? You know way too much about this killer. It’s almost as if… as if you’re the killer.”

She opened her eyes, peering up at him. Even stretched out on a hospital bed, she still managed her stoic face with ease. “I know because I understand.”

Their voices were dropped to a whisper so that they didn’t disturb anyone else in the room. Ishimaru shifted his feet. Kirigiri spoke again. “Can I ask you a favor?”

He nodded. “As long as it’s not too troublesome, I’ll make sure to do it.”

“I’ll give you the address to my house. Please go there and… And tell Naegi that I won’t be coming home tonight,” her voice was so frail that he had to strain his ears to make out the words.

“But you told me not to tell Naegi about any of this.”

“I changed my mind. Tell him.” Her hands fidgeted on top of the sheets that covered her body. “Tell him that I… I never meant to hurt him.”

“O-okay.”

Ishimaru stepped back out into the hospital lobby and made for the phones on the wall. He made a quick call to his home and told his mother that he would be out very late. He made the message brief. He didn’t think he could handle any of her questions for now.

The next thing he did was to fulfill Kirigiri’s request. He started for her home. The pain on his nose had subsided into a dull ache, but he was still mildly uncomfortable. The air felt cold and it stung when he inhaled. The sound of his footsteps thudding against the pavement became a soothing monotony to calm his nerves. At last, he reached her house, and sure enough, Naegi sat on the pavement with his elbows on his knees. When he spotted Ishimaru, his eyes lit up momentarily, followed by a look of confusion and concern. He stood up and straightened his shirt, his mouth hanging open as he took in Ishimaru’s disgruntled state. 

“Naegi,” the hall monitor began, “I’m afraid Kirigiri will not be able to meet with you tonight.”

Naegi’s eyebrows drew together in surprise. “Why not? Did something happen?”

“She’s…” he sighed, not wanting to shock the luckster any further. “Kirigiri is in the hospital right now. I saw her inside the paint factory moments after it exploded. She said she met with the killer there.”

In a flash, Naegi was right in front of him, his pale hands gripping the front of Ishimaru’s shirt. The hall monitor bowed his head and was met with a look of pure, unabashed panic in a pair of green eyes. “What happened to her?”

Ishimaru’s body shook as Naegi tugged on his shirt multiple times. “She is alright. I brought her to the hospital where she’s been resting. Naegi, there’s no need to worry, I—”

“I have to see her.”

“Visiting hours are over, and—”

“Who cares about visiting hours?”

“Naegi, I’d advise you to calm down—”

“If you want me to calm down then tell me where she is!”

“I already told you, she’s in the hospital.”

“I mean what room. It matters too, what room she’s in.”

“Just a standard ward. She isn’t in intensive care, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Naegi’s grip on the hall monitor’s shirt loosened and his arms fell to his sides, defeated. 

“So she’s fine,” he said, but it didn’t sound like he said it to anyone but himself.

“Yes. She wasn’t affected by the blast itself, only by the smoke that filled her lungs. And she broke her ankle too. But other than that, there are no more injuries.”

Naegi breathed out a sigh of relief so hard, Ishimaru felt it fan out on his face. “Oh thank god.”

“She also told me to tell you another thing. She said that she never meant to hurt you.”

Naegi’s eyes flashed with emotion, fists now clenched at his sides. “She damn nearly did,” he said gravely.

“Are you alright?” Ishimaru asked in a serious tone.

To his surprise, Naegi let out a short laugh. “I think I should be the one asking you that question.”

Ishimaru looked confused for a moment, then he remembered that he probably looked far worse than the luckster that stood before him. His hands came up to cover his nose. “Ah, yes, I got into a little tousle in trying to retrieve Kirigiri’s notebook, but this is nothing.”

Naegi froze. “You… you fought the killer to get Kirigiri’s notebook?”

“The killer’s henchmen, not the actual killer.”

“Yeah, but you did it to save Kirigiri.”

“Makoto Naegi, if you think I am the kind of person to just leave a helpless citizen in a pile of dust, then you’ve thought—”

Ishimaru’s words died at his throat as Naegi’s lanky arms came up and wrapped around him. He stiffened at first, surprised. But as he felt the desperation in Naegi’s grip, he relaxed a bit and patted his back.

“Thank you,” Naegi said, and Ishimaru’s heart welled up with joy. “If anything had happened to her and I wasn’t there… I could never forgive myself.”

“I’d do anything to help out a friend.”

Naegi stepped back, smiling. “You’ve done more than enough.” He looked up at the dark blue sky, his hands shoved in his pants pockets. “I guess I should be going home now.”

“Yes. M-me too,”

Naegi raised an eyebrow. “Hang on a minute. I think there’s someone else who needs to know about what happened to you.”

“Who?” Ishimaru was genuinely confused.

“Oowada, of course! You’ve just escaped an exploded factory and attacked by a couple of guys and you’re not gonna tell him?”

He shook his head. “Why should I tell him? He wants nothing to do with me.”

The air around them turned cold at the seriousness in Ishimaru’s tone. Oowada. He hadn’t thought of Oowada at all during the past few hours. His mind had more things to wander to, but now that Naegi put him back, Ishimaru realized there was no way for thoughts of the gang leader to escape him now. The pain in his red eyes was evident as he stared at Naegi, who wore an expression of sympathy and confusion. The shorter boy whispered, “We all know that’s impossible.”

“It’s possible,” the prefect replied, swallowing. “He has made that very clear to me, so I’ve been out of his way ever since.”

“No, I think there’s a bit of a miscommunication here. Oowada… Oowada likes you, Ishimaru. Anyone can see that.”

“H-he might have used to, but that isn’t true anymore. I’ve… I’ve done something wrong, you see. It’s all my fault.” Tears started pouring down Ishimaru’s cheeks and he made no attempt to stop them. “I-It’s my fault.”

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Naegi said, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “None of this is your fault. Look, just talk it out with Oowada, okay? I’m sure this can be easily resolved.”

“I’m so confused.”

Naegi stared at him for a few seconds and he released a huge sigh. “Ishimaru,” he said with conviction, like a revolt leader inspiring the masses and it was an odd thing, to hear that tone from Naegi of all people. Still, it cut through Ishimaru’s mind like a blade and he snapped up to listen. “I have no idea what happened to you, or why you think this is your fault, but I am sure about one thing: Oowada is crazy about you. Yeah, it took me a while to notice, and it was Chihiro who first brought it up to me, but when she did it became so obvious!”

A quiver of a smile broke out on Ishimaru’s face in amusement.

“And I have a piece of advice for you. I said this to someone else and it worked wonders,” Naegi continue, his eyes twinkling with glee. “Do what makes you happy.”

“Okay.”

“So what’re you gonna do now?”

“I have absolutely no idea whatsoever.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until you figure it out?”

Ishimaru smiled gratefully at him, but shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you for your… kind words, though.”

Naegi glanced at the side, looking at Kirigiri’s house. “Ishimaru,” he said, “Did you notice that Kirigiri’s house is completely dark?”

Ishimaru confirmed his observation. “That is quite odd. Do you know if she lives with anyone?”

“She’s not a very open person.”

The prefect nodded in understanding. 

Naegi turned towards the road, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “I really should be going now, then.”

“Yes, of course,” Ishimaru replied softly, “Naegi?”

“Yeah?” he paused, turning his head to Ishimaru.

“Y-you said that Oowada… likes me, right?”

The luckster paused a bit before nodding. “Yeah, of course he does. Why do you ask?”

“I think Kirigiri likes you too.”

The biggest of smiles formed on Naegi’s face and it made Ishimaru feel ten times lighter. He smiled back. Naegi’s smile turned into a laugh and so did his. “Y-yeah, I think she does,” Naegi said, still smiling. Ishimaru could not remember a time he’d seen him happier than how he was at the moment. “Guess I’m a really lucky guy.”

Ishimaru chuckled. They shot each other one last round of smiles and bade their farewells, setting off in opposite directions. By his estimate, it was probably nearing midnight. The row of street lamps in front of him cast an ethereal glow on the ground. It made his head lighter with the mindset of going to a destination that was worthwhile.

The backs of his legs burned with exhaustion. His eyelids drooped with the urge to fall into a deep, uninterrupted slumber, but his mind was plagued awake with the thoughts that bothered him. He thought of Naegi and his bright, optimistic smile. He thought of Kirigiri and her message of impending doom, and thought about how much time he had left. How soon was it? How high were the stakes? How much was he willing to give up?

And he thought of Oowada, of course. There was no avoiding that. He lifted up a hand and pressed his fingers lightly to his lips, his stomach fizzing alight with a gentle flow of energy. Oowada had kissed him, told him he wanted him and for that moment he believed it. The delinquent had him so utterly entranced, carried his heart in a delightful train and sailed it across the stars. He remembered the look of intensity in his lavender eyes. They had been urgent. Needy. The way Oowada had looked at him, it left him breathless and weak. It wasn’t fair that he had this effect on Ishimaru, to make him feel wanted only to dispose of him immediately after.

A crumbling pain seized his heart. Even after all that, he still wanted nothing more than to be with Oowada. To breathe in his musky scent and listen to the sound of his voice. To laugh at his jokes and be confused with the things that he did. It was simple companionship, of course. Ishimaru was perfectly content with having Oowada as his friend. In fact, it made him very happy. But that day in detention changed everything. The kiss, it changed everything, made him see things differently, caused him to think of entirely new possibilities.

Suddenly he wanted to be with Oowada. The longing in him intensified tenfold. He cannot envision a world without Oowada by his side. He desired to have the gang leader close to him for long times—at all times. He wanted to feel Oowada’s lips on his again, if only for a split second. He wanted to remember what he tasted like because he’d forgotten already. And it sickened him how much he needed to rely on another person now. For the longest time, he’d always functioned alone. He never needed anyone else. He always stood up for himself and by himself. But now, he was considering dragging another person in his dreadful way of living. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to immerse themselves in that kind of world, where everything was black and white and clear-cut, where each detail of the future was planned out and described like a reverse history book that spoke of forthcoming events. No one would willingly want to enter Ishimaru’s world. It was ridiculous to even think anyone will consider it. Most ridiculous of all was to think—no, to hope that that person would be Oowada.

Ishimaru truly was foolish.

Even more so now than ever, when the streams of moonlight clouded his vision and entered his thoughts, causing him to see blinding white light when he closed his eyes. And so distracted was he by this that his feet carried him of their own accord to the one place where it made sense for him to be at the moment.

He opened his eyes. He was standing in front of Oowada’s home.

There was not a single light coming from inside. It was safe to assume that its only inhabitant was asleep.

Ishimaru stepped forward anyway, his heart pounding and his head aching, spurning out words and thoughts at lightning speed until it hummed, the words barely discernible anymore, all sense of coherency gone. There was only him and the house, and Oowada inside the house, and his hand which he brought up to knock on the front door. Then twice. Three times. He didn’t know which was louder, his humming brain or his heavy breathing. He stepped back, the blades of grass hugging the soles of his boots. Crickets chirped some distance away, drowning him in a sea of lonely nature’s choir. It was beautiful, but far from what he needed at the moment.

This hanging moment went on for a few more seconds, and then the door opened, revealing a practically half-asleep Mondo Oowada, whose hard gaze softened once he saw who the late night intruder was.

Ishimaru tugged at the bottom of his shirt self-consciously, trying to read the emotions off of Oowada’s face.

“I…” the hall monitor trailed off, transfixed by the way Oowada’s messy hair fell down his head with its tips grazing his shoulders. A soft light emanated from inside the house, making it seem like the gang leader was glowing. Ishimaru gulped. “I can explain.”

It was difficult to pinpoint the expression that Oowada had. It changed and transformed every few seconds, fading fast and starting anew so quickly that Ishimaru couldn’t keep track. All he saw was the quivering of Oowada’s lips, the tensing of his jaw, and the vibrant pool of constellations present in his eyes. It happened quickly, faster than Ishimaru’s brain could function. In two easy strides, Oowada was right in front of him. Barely a heartbeat more and he was wrapped tight in the gang leader’s arms.

Ishimaru breathed in deeply as he felt Oowada’s pounding heart against his cheek. The arms around him were strong, sturdy. Everything in him went whirring all at once, coming to life as if awoken from a thousand years of dormancy. He couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper, closing his eyes so he could focus more on the touch. Oowada’s arms went even tighter, his head resting on top of Ishimaru’s. The prefect didn’t realize how long he’d been craving for this, to be comforted and to know that he was safe. Because that was the perfect word to describe being in Oowada’s arms. Safe.

They stood like that for what could have been minutes or hours or years. The duration cannot be ascertained. Oowada loosened his grip and pulled back. He look at Ishimaru and his face contorted. The hall monitor let out a panicked yelp, remembering his current state. “I-It’s nothing, kyou—”

“Who did this to you?” He said, low and menacing. And it was so different from how he usually was when angered. He’d always been loud and violent. Reckless and rash. But there was none of that Mondo Oowada right now. His voice rumbled in his throat and was laced with all sorts of darkness and trepidation, which contrasted heavily with the gentle touch he put on Ishimaru’s cheek. “Tell me.”

“There’s no need to concern yourself with this,” Ishimaru replied, not wanting Oowada to get involved in any more potentially dangerous situations. Nothing was to be gained in telling him the truth after all. The gang leader was looking at him differently and it made him squirm. The darkness in his eyes was disconcerting. He didn’t look like himself at all. “Mondo?”

Ishimaru barely finished getting the word out before he found himself being drawn forward, and Oowada’s face was closing in. Their lips crashed together. Oowada kissed deeply, as if he was searching to draw Ishimaru’s soul out of him. His other hand went on Ishimaru’s arm, locked in a tight grip. It was urgent. Desperate. The touch was familiar and the taste lit up dozens of Ishimaru’s nerve endings and filled his closed eyelids with lights. It was the same pair of lips, but it wasn’t the same man. Ishimaru laid a hand on Oowada’s chest and gave it a firm shove.

Oowada took three steps back as if he’d been electrocuted. His lavender eyes went wide, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Shit. Shit shit shit. God, I am so sorry, Ishi. Fuck—I… I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ishimaru touched his fingers to his throbbing lips. He pulled them back and found them stained with blood. Oowada had kissed him so hard that it re-opened the cut on his mouth. He shook his head, running his tongue over his bottom lip and instantly detecting the rusty tang. “No, I…” Ishimaru mumbled, “You’re being very confusing right now.”

The guilt in Oowada’s eyes did not falter. He nodded. “Come inside,” he said, gesturing towards the front door. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

They didn’t talk much as they entered the house. Nor did they utter many words as Oowada handed the prefect a set of his clothes and Ishimaru disappeared behind the bathroom door. Ishimaru felt relieved to be out of the day’s grime. Oowada’s shirt hung loosely over his frame, but the boxer shorts fit decently. The clothes smelled like him. Ishimaru stared at his own set of clothing, dirty white and blood-speckled. He picked them up and folded them neatly, taking great care and making sure each fold was in perfect symmetry. He told himself that it was because he genuinely wanted his clothes to be in great shape but in truth he was just buying himself time.

When he opened the door, he found Oowada waiting outside, wearing an expression of anxiety. The guilt from earlier still had not faded. Not even a little bit. He looked at Ishimaru like he was a child’s toy about to break. “Please don’t look at me like that,” the prefect told him, “It’s not very comforting.”

“I’m not giving you any look,” Oowada replied, brows furrowing.

“You are. You look like you want to break something.”

“I’m not gonna break you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of you breaking me. That can be easily sorted.” Ishimaru drew himself up to his full height. There was a two-inch space thick with tension standing between them. Oowada narrowed his eyes, sizing him up. Ishimaru whispered even though there was no one else around to hear. “But I am afraid of you hurting me.”

Oowada’s hand flew to his wrist. His initial hold was tight and painful, but it loosened. His thumb lightly stroked Ishimaru’s skin, gliding, following the trail of his bones. “Have I… hurt you?”

“Yes,” the prefect replied, snatching his had away from Oowada’s touch. He turned around and walked over to the couch, just desperate to relieve the burning feeling on the backs of his legs. Oowada sat down next to him, maintaining between them a respectable amount of space.

“Look, we need to talk,” the gang leader said, his eyes refusing to meet Ishimaru’s gaze.

“Can we…” Ishimaru gulped before he continued, “not? I-I mean, yes, we do need to… talk some things out, but for now I just want some company. C-can we do that, Mondo? Please?”

Oowada stared at him for a full three seconds. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

“What happened to your face?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. My face is pristine.”

“No, you look like shit.”

Ishimaru held up a hand over his nose self-consciously, his thick brows meeting at the center. “Do I really look that bad?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Oh no! No one will take my speeches seriously if I look like I just came out of a gang fight!”

“Look, man, are you really not gonna tell me what happened? ‘Cause frankly, you’re shit at stalling.” Oowada leaned back on the couch, extending his arms to the sides so that one of them grazed the back of Ishimaru’s head.

The hall monitor’s gaze dropped down to his wringing fingers on his lap. He sighed. “Yeah, I… I should probably tell you about that.”

And so Ishimaru told him everything, about how he was on his way to the store when he heard the explosion. He ran towards it and saw Kirigiri. He told Oowada about the masked attackers and how he managed to retrieve Kirigiri’s notebook. How he had to carry her all the way to the hospital so the two of them could get patched up. How Kirigiri warned her of the danger they were in, and that there was no avoiding that now. How he told Naegi about what happened to Kirigiri. How happy Naegi looked just because she was alive.

Ishimaru trailed off after that, letting the silence take over. He could hear Oowada breathing beside him, but otherwise there was no indication that someone was there. He shook his head. “I am happy for them,” he said, speaking of Naegi and Kirigiri, “I really am.”

Oowada grunted in reply. “It’s cool, I guess.”

“It may not mean much to you, but it does to me.”

“What makes you say that?”

Ishimaru brought up his knees and rested his chin on them. “I grew up in a broken home. My parents weren’t very happy together, so I never knew what it was like.”

He could feel Oowada’s eyes on him as the gang leader spoke. “What it was like to what?”

“To see two people happy. And I mean really, truly happy. In fact, for a long time, I didn’t think that happiness was possible for anyone. I always thought that it was a bit like perfection—we can strive towards it, but we’ll never achieve it.”

The expression in Oowada’s eyes was uncertain as he spoke. “So… you’ve never been… happy?”

Ishimaru shook his head. “Not until recently. Until… Until you and I became friends. You nudged me really close to the border of happiness. And when you kissed me… that day… i-in the classroom, I… I fell all the way.” His heart was thudding loudly in his chest as wrapped his arms around his own torso. “But then you left all of a sudden and it… disappeared. Everything resembling happiness just vanished and there was nothing left in me that was even close to it. I was worst off than ever before.” A sharp pain rose up in his throat, traveling up the bridge of his nose and taking over his head. It was the familiar pang of sadness, etching itself once again to him, clawing to make a home out of him. It was only when his vision blurred and his chest started heaving that he noticed that he was crying. “…W-why did you do that, Mondo? Did I do something wrong?”

“Ishi, I…” Oowada’s voice sounded strained, as if he struggled to speak through a hand wrapped tightly at his throat. He leaned towards Ishimaru. “God, no. You didn’t do anything! I was too much of a coward and this is all my fault—I… Please, just stop crying.”

Ishimaru nodded, his left hand coming to wrap around his right wrist, digging painfully into the skin until the tips of his fingers became numb. He hoped that the pain would distract him from his crying, but the sobs continued. Oowada took note of this action and proceeded to place his hand over Ishimaru’s clenched one. “Ishi, you’re hurting yourself.”

“I-I’m fine, Mondo.”

“Fuck, Ishimaru! Stop that, you’re freaking me out!” Oowada forced Ishimaru’s hand away from his wrist. His fingers went cold for a few moments before going back to normal. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“…What?” Ishimaru whispered.

Oowada’s hands came up the sides of his face, forcing Ishimaru to look him in the eye. “I was scared, alright? It was great and shit, but I got scared that I’d screw you over. That I’d fuck up what we have and I’d lose you and god, I wasn’t thinking straight but that’s what I did, alright? You’re too much… Honestly, god damn it, Ishimaru, you’re just too much for me to lose!

“And I’m sorry. We’ve had a lot of fights and I did so many shitty things and I just, god, why do you even put up with me? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“That’s the first time you apologized to me.”

Oowada paused his rambling. “What?”

“You never apologized to me before, no matter what you did or how much I was hurt by your actions,” Ishimaru dropped his gaze back to his lap. “I used to think it was because you didn’t care about me.”

“Now wait just a—”

“So what changed?” Ishimaru tried not to let his nerves reflect on his tone. Prying Oowada’s hands away from his face, he fought to keep his voice stern and direct. “What’s the difference from then to now?”

Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes. It was dark and quiet and there was still a considerable amount of space between the two. But the air was lighter and something stirred within Ishimaru the desire to be closer. He turned on his side. He kept his eyes locked on Oowada’s collarbone as he shuffled closer and placed his hands on the gang leader’s broad shoulders. Ishimaru’s palms were sweaty and they nearly slipped when they landed on Oowada’s skin. Finally, he looked back up at his bewildered face. Oowada was looking at him as if he just dropped out of the sky.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ishimaru said softly. “It… It makes me self-aware.”

“No, sorry, it’s just… You look beautiful.” Oowada’s face turned beet red the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth. “I mean uh, that wasn’t—” 

The rest of his speech was cut off by Ishimaru leaning in to peck him on the lips. The simple act brought Ishimaru’s senses humming with life. His hands tingled and his breathing stuttered. Oowada had stiffened entirely, his nails digging into the sofa cushions. Ishimaru couldn’t bear to look at him for the moment so he buried his face in Oowada’s neck, his long arms piling across the gang leader’s shoulder blades. He inhaled deeply, breathing in Oowada’s scent as if he still hadn’t gotten enough of it despite having been in his presence and wearing his clothes. Ishimaru pressed his lips to the underside of his jawline, getting bolder by the minute. He then traveled up to Oowada’s ear and was pleased to see Oowada tense up the moment his lips made contact. “Is this okay?” he whispered.

Hands came to wrap firmly around his waist, pushing their bodies closer until their chests were pressed together. He could feel Oowada’s nose against his cheek, breathing out a rhythm that brought him a staggering amount of comfort. Oowada’s hands hiked up his shirt and pressed against his bare back. Ishimaru let out a soft sigh. “Don’t you dare leave,” the gang leader replied.

The prefect smiled against his neck and placed another light kiss on it. He traced Oowada’s jawline with his lips before going up to his cheekbone. Oowada’s eyes were closed, but Ishimaru’s were wide open, curious and perceptive. His eyes shot down to Oowada’s lips, still uncertain if he was allowed to kiss them even though he’d just done so moments before. They looked warm and inviting. He wanted to touch them, to feel them press against the pads of his fingers and trace their majestic outline. But he kept his arms around his neck. Maybe this time, if he held on tightly enough, he wouldn’t run away.

He pressed their foreheads together and let their lips brush ever so slightly. His heart was pounding and his stomach was filled with butterflies, a cacophony of fuzzy sensations that made it difficult for him to focus. Oowada looked vulnerable under the moonlight, with his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly. He was so handsome, with his long hair mussed up on his forehead and his arms around Ishimaru and the prefect could hardly take it. Everything about Mondo Oowada drove him mad and it clouded over all his reasoning. But that hardly mattered because for now, for the first time in years, he could breathe again.

He got up on his knees and brought one over Oowada’s lap, framing his waist with his thighs. The biker’s eyes shot open, shock evident in them as he stared up at Ishimaru. The hall monitor smiled nervously, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Oowada’s neck. He relaxed under Oowada’s hold. 

Oowada was the one to speak. “You… you like this position, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Ishimaru replied. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

Oowada wouldn’t meet his gaze. It was hard to determine with the limited lighting, but it almost looked like he was embarrassed. “N-nothing’s wrong,” he said, leaning up to capture Ishimaru’s lower lip and sucking on it gently. Ishimaru hummed happily, but Oowada pulled away much too quickly for his liking. “I-It just makes me think, is all.”

“Think about what?” Ishimaru asked innocently.

“Y-you don’t need to know that!”

Ishimaru laughed and kissed him on the mouth. It was another quick and fleeting kiss that left him wanting for more. He did it again. On the third time, Oowada responded by deepening it, opening his mouth against the prefect’s. Their tongues met and continued where they left off, now bolder and more adventurous. Uninhibited, urged lightly by the stillness of the room.

Oowada pulled back suddenly. “Ishimaru, your mouth—”

The hall monitor cut him off with another kiss, his hands fisting in Oowada’s hair. “Don’t care.”

“Ishi, I—”

Ishimaru kissed even harder, trying to get him to stop talking. It wasn’t until Oowada’s hands came up to grab his face and had to physically pull him apart that he stopped.

“Ishi, I can taste blood.”

Ishimaru opened his eyes and focused on Oowada’s face. The light from the kitchen provided him with not much, but an adequate view of the sight before him. It was barely detectable, but sure enough there was a tint of dark red smeared on one spot of Oowada’s lower lip. Obviously, that had not come from him.

Oowada’s thumb came up to stroke the cut on Ishimaru’s lip. “Here. Just, calm down, alright?” Oowada pulled his hand away and wiped the blood off his thumb on his shirt. “We don’t have to… y’know… do that.”

Ishimaru cocked his head in confusion. “Do what?”

“You know! That.”

“Are you… are you ashamed to say that we kissed?”

“It sounds weird when you say it out loud, alright?” 

“Oh.” Ishimaru’s face dropped. “Then I guess you didn’t like it then.”

“What? Shit, no. Of course I did!” Oowada leaned forward and put a hand on his cheek. “Come on, don’t look so glum.”

“I can’t be certain of anything. You’re still being very confusing. Do you want to kiss me or not?”

Oowada’s face went red once again, but he nodded. “God, yes. If I could do it every day for the rest of my life, I would. Shit, do you even know how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you?”

Ishimaru shook his head. 

“Too long.” Oowada pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I waited too long.” He caught Ishimaru’s gaze and let out a small lopsided smile. “But we don’t have to do it right now, alright? It’s obviously hurting you—”

“But it doesn’t even hurt—”

“Shush. I’m trying to be the responsible one here for once.”

Ishimaru pouted and nodded. “Okay.” He placed another quick kiss on Oowada’s lips and pulled back, giggling. “That was the last one, I swear.”

Oowada rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

They remained like that for a while before Ishimaru checked his watch and extricated himself from Oowada’s hold. “It’s really late. I should go home now.”

“You can stay here, you know.”

“Thank you, but my mother will be worried if I don’t go home for the night.” Ishimaru got up and collected his things. 

“So… I’ll see you?”

Ishimaru turned to him as he had one hand on the door knob. “Yeah, of course. Thank you.” 

And then he opened the door and ventured back into the icy cold night air.

When Ishimaru got home, he went straight to bed and did not wake up until noon. But when he did get up, a smile broke out on his face when he saw a text from Oowada asking if they could hang out. Ishimaru declined, saying he still had homework to do and set his phone aside. 

He walked out into the living room and saw his mother knitting. She hadn’t knitted anything since Ishimaru was a child. When she saw him, she paused. “Yes, son?”

Ishimaru went straight for the television set. “We never got to finish Moulin Rouge.”

She smiled. “Yes, of course. And after that, maybe Grease?”

Ishimaru pulled the respective DVDs from the rack. “Yeah, mom, that sounds great.”


	26. Acceptance (Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to the last chapter. We're almost there.

The rest of the weekend passed by without much more event. Ishimaru’s wounds had healed up considerably through adequate resting and proper hydration. Granted, there was still a slight crook along the bridge of his nose and a dark red line still ran through the length of his bottom lip, but they didn’t bother him as much. He could only look forward to going back to school just as he always did on the verge of a Monday morning. More so now than usual, actually. After all the craziness of the past few days, he craved for nothing more than the normality of being an average Hope’s Peak student again. 

He took his usual route to school, heading out of the door with a brief greeting towards his mother. The skies were a bit gloomy, but he didn’t let that bring him down. The wind was awfully strong, the trees swaying in an entrancing rhythm all around him. He hoped that it wouldn’t start raining, for he’d forgotten to bring an umbrella that day.

The familiar sight of the Hope’s Peak Academy’s entrance gates brought about a wave of relief in him, seeing that normality was only just a few dozen steps away now. He walked through with a calm air. When he was a short distance away from the front door, a pair of light arms came to wrap around his torso and he jumped in surprise.

“Ishimaru!” said a familiar voice. He turned to see the smiling face of none other than Chihiro Fujisaki, who looked like there were sparkles hanging in the air all around her. Ishimaru relaxed and patted her head.

“Chihiro! You scared me for a second there!”

Fujisaki stepped back and shoved a little rectangular box at his chest. Ishimaru stared at it for a few seconds and shook his head. “I do not know what I am to do with this.”

Fujisaki laughed and it was like the angels from heaven were singing. Why was she so happy? “It’s for you, silly! Happy birthday.”

The hall monitor stood still, the whistling of the wind becoming louder in his ears. He stared at the gift, then at Fujisaki, then back at the gift. “It’s… It’s my birthday?”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. Of course it’s your birthday!” Fujisaki bounced on her heels and toes. “Now open the gift! Go on!”

He took the box with deft fingers, muttering to himself. “I honestly didn’t know…”

“You’re joking, right?”

Ishimaru shook his head. Fujisaki let out an awkward smile. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Naegi-kun and I have a calendar with everyone’s birthdays in it!” she answered, “I seem to recall you telling me your birthday, but that had been a long time ago. And now you… forgot?”

“Birthdays aren’t exactly significant to me or to the people around me. That’s why I normally don’t bother with them.” Ishimaru opened the door and held it open for Fujisaki to enter, him following behind her. The halls were filled with the usual bustling of the students going about their own pre-class businesses. Ishimaru wondered if even one of them had a weekend just as wild as he had.

“You know what, Ishimaru? I have a feeling this birthday’s gonna be a lot different than your previous ones.”

Ishimaru let out a small smile. “You think so?”

“Yes! Now open the gift!”

They entered the classroom, which for now didn’t have any other student in it. Fujisaki sat down on Naegi’s usual place and watched Ishimaru intently as he tore through the wrapper of the gift, revealing a dark leather journal underneath. Ishimaru went still and then he shoved the object back at Fujisaki. “I can’t possibly take this!”

“What? No, no, I told you, it’s yours!” she said, handing it back.

“This cost you time and money! I didn’t mean to be an inconvenience.”

Much to Ishimaru’s surprise, Fujisaki stood up on her seat and slammed the journal on his desk with staggering force. “I said take it, hall monitor!”

Ishimaru froze in shock, then nodded. Fujisaki’s expression went from seething to cheerful in a split second. She giggled. “I’m glad you like it!”

Ishimaru took off the rest of the wrapping and ran his hands down the length of the journal’s spine. He opened its pages, taking in the clean slates waiting for his writings. He’d never had a journal before. He always just kept his schedule in his head. And this one seemed to be one of the very expensive ones too. Tears stung his eyes as he looked back at the programmer, his mouth quivering. “I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, beaming. A couple of other students began filing through the door and Fujisaki walked to her own seat. Every time someone would come in, Ishimaru would unconsciously lift up his head and hope to see a certain person, but he never came. There was only two minutes left before class started and Mondo Oowada’s seat was empty. He tried not to let this bother him. Maybe he was just sick with the flu or something of the like.

But the last time Oowada hadn’t attended class it turned out it was because he was injured and confined in a hospital. Again, he tried not to let this bother him. He tried hard. He was a prefect, for crying out loud! He had more important responsibilities to get to than to worry about what his reckless best friend was up to.

Naegi gave him a brief greeting when he entered the room and Ishimaru smiled gratefully. They made small talk. Ishimaru asked if Naegi had visited Kirigiri already, to which he replied in the affirmative.

“She’s in good condition, thankfully. But she’s gonna have to be on crutches for the next few days.”

Ishimaru nodded. “That is very good news indeed.”

Naegi turned to the back of the room, eyes scanning everyone. Then, he whispered. “Ikusaba isn’t here.”

“Oh?” Ishimaru confirmed this for his own. Three vacant seats today, then. “I wonder why.”

“Do you…” Naegi gulped visibly and spoke in a lower tone. Ishimaru had to strain his neck to hear him. “Do you think this has something to do with what happened to Kirigiri in the paint factory?”

“I think it might.”

Naegi’s eyes were filled with sadness as he turned back to face the front. “Yeah.”

“But I thought you believed that Ikusaba was innocent?”

Naegi shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe in anymore.” He broke his grim expression and took on a smile. “But hey, it’s your birthday. We shouldn’t be talking about sad stuff right now.”

“It doesn’t bother me at all! If the situation is truly hopeless, I don’t think it would do us any good to pretend that everything is alright.”

“I don’t think the situation is hopeless,” Naegi replied, his fingers fiddling with the lapels of his blazer. “There’s always hope in any situation. When everything and everyone else has turned their back on you, that is the one thing that you can always count on.”

Ishimaru let his words sink in for a moment. Once again, he was astounded by the amount of optimism such a small person could have. Maybe hoping a little wouldn’t hurt…

He glanced back at Oowada’s empty seat and a sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.

-

Ishimaru finished his after school duties as he usually did. The school staff that were out sick the past week had been healed now and he was grateful to see that everything was up and running properly again with more people on the job. He finished his duties a half hour earlier than expected. The skies were still as gloomy as they were that morning, still heavy with the amount of rain that they refuse to let go of. Ishimaru exited the school and found Naegi standing idly by the front doors.

“Oh! Ishimaru, you’re out early!”

“Yes. It seems I wasn’t needed very much today. I went to the faculty room to ask if they wanted me to help with anything, but they said it was all covered and that I can go home. That was most unexpected, but I’m happy that order and authority is now back to normal in this school.”

Naegi nodded. “Wow! That’s amazing!”

“And what are you still doing out here, Naegi?”

Naegi opened his backpack and took out a small plastic bag with a brand name written on the surface. “Yeah… Sorry, I don’t know how to wrap gifts. Mom usually does them for me, but she was out of town yesterday and I was kinda left to my own devices. Anyway, happy birthday, Ishimaru!”

The hall monitor took the gift from him, his eyes already shining with tears. “This is very thoughtful of you!” 

He peeled back the plastic to reveal a thin rectangular box with a fountain pen inside. The color of the fountain pen matched the cover of the journal from Fujisaki. He laughed. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s not a problem! Also, it’s still early. We can go to that ice cream shop nearby if you’d like. You don’t have to pay for anything, of course.”

“No! I-I don’t want to be any more of an inconvenience to your financial status!”

Naegi shook his head, laughing. “Ishimaru, it’s just ice cream. It’s not gonna hurt anyone. Plus, it’s your birthday. We’re allowed to spoil you a little.”

Ishimaru still looked a bit hesitant, so Naegi continued to speak. “Come on! It’s gonna be fun, I promise.”

“F-fun?”

“Yes, fun!” Naegi beamed and adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders. “I’ll race you there!”

“Wait, what?” But Naegi had already taken off, getting several feet of head start. Ishimaru’s competitive side won out, his own feet lifting off the ground of their own accord. His strides were longer than Naegi’s and he was able to catch up easily. The luckster gained speed, his usually wild hair falling flat on the top of his head as he braced against the wind. Naegi turned right on a corner and Ishimaru followed a few steps behind. He could hear Naegi’s laughter ringing out as the ice cream shop came into view. Ishimaru watched his pacing and waited until they were only a few feet away from the shop’s front entrance, then he straightened his back and made strides quicker and longer than before, easily beating the shorter man to the door.

The hall monitor opened the door, smiling. “You were an admirable competitor, Naegi!” 

Naegi’s face was coated in sweat, but he still smiled. “Y-yeah? That’s good to know,” he said in between pants. Ishimaru was a little worried that he might start wheezing. As for the prefect, other than the quickening of his heartbeat, there was no evidence that the sprint had affected him at all. They entered the shop, sighing blissfully as the cool air of the air conditioning blasted on their faces. Somewhere in the corner of his eye, Ishimaru saw someone wave.

“Over here!” Fujisaki yelled, waving her hand in the air frantically. Ishimaru and Naegi went to sit on the table with her. 

“It’s good to see you, Chihiro!” Ishimaru said.

She nodded in enthusiasm. “Naegi and I figured that we’d do something special for your birthday! Order anything you want. It’ll be our treat.”

Ishimaru may have looked very shocked by this. He turned to Naegi, who gave him a thumbs up.

“Well, I guess I should know by now that it’s useless to refuse whatever you guys give,” Ishimaru said, scanning the menu for anything that he might like—and that wasn’t too costly. “Thank you for your kindness.”

They ordered their food: a slice of cookies n cream ice cream cake for Fujisaki, a double scoop strawberry ice cream with one of those fancy candy cones for Naegi, and a triple dark chocolate sundae for Ishimaru. Ishimaru was still a bit stunned that these two were doing these for him, so he didn’t have a lot to say. Luckily, Naegi and Fujisaki made sure that there was no dead air at any time. They filled the table with merry stories and rings of laughter. Ishimaru observed the sky turning into a deep indigo outside the shop’s window. He sighed.

“I really do thank you,” he said thoughtfully, his lips refusing to dissolve his smile. “You two have been nothing but kind to me, and I only wish I can return the favor in any way. This has truly been the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Awww!” Fujisaki said, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “We’re really happy to hear that!”

“But it’s not over yet,” Naegi said, causing Ishimaru to turn to his green eyes, which were currently shining with amusement. “Hope it’s okay if you stay out a bit late tonight.”

“Oh?” Ishimaru asked, worried. “I mean, you’ve already done enough! We can pretty much call this a day now.”

Fujisaki shook her head. “It’s not done yet, and we both know that you know it too. You’ve been missing someone, haven’t you?”

Ishimaru blinked and averted his gaze from theirs. It was true. Though he was grateful beyond words for Naegi and Fujisaki’s actions, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering why it was that Oowada was nowhere to be found. He shook his head. “I’m sure Mondo is just busy with something else. Maybe he’s sick!”

Naegi brought out his phone and typed on it for a few seconds before pocketing it again. “Yeah, maybe.”

Fujisaki piped up. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting that you miss your boyfriend, Ishimaru!”

“Wh-wh-whaaat?!” Ishimaru’s face grew hot in the span of only a few seconds and he suddenly felt dizzy. He slammed his fists on the table, causing the silverware to clatter. “N-n-no! You’ve got it wrong! Mondo isn’t my boyfriend! We’re not boyfriends!”

Naegi and Fujisaki shot him looks that made it clear that they didn’t believe him. “We’re not boyfriends,” he said again.

Fujisaki rolled her eyes and stood up. “Sure, Ishimaru. Anyway, we should head out now.”

“Where are we going?” asked Ishimaru when they’ve exited the shop.

“Back to Hope’s Peak,” Naegi replied. They walked the short distance in silence, Ishimaru growing more and more puzzled with each step. It was already nighttime and everyone in Hope’s Peak Academy had probably gone home long ago. What were they planning to do there?

They entered the gates. Ishimaru was surprised that it was unlocked. They climbed up the steps to the front entrance, but just when they were about to open the door, they stopped.

“This is where we go, Ishimaru,” Fujisaki said, confusing the prefect even more. Ishimaru jolted when Naegi thrust a flashlight on his hand.

“W-wait! What’s going on? You can’t make me go in there alone! Where am I gonna go?”

“Just trust us, okay?” Naegi said. Ishimaru knew that if he were to place his trust on anyone, these two people would be at the top of the list. He nodded. 

They opened the doors and pushed Ishimaru in. The doors closed after only a second, and he was immersed in complete darkness.

Ishimaru stood there for a while, the sound of his breathing barricading his ears. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. Should he get back out there just to ask them? What were they even up to anyway and why did it involve this?”

A sound erupted from the other end of the hall. Ishimaru stiffened and strained his ear to listen. If it was an attacker, maybe he could use the darkness to his advantage. There was a loud footstep, whose sound reverberated through the hallway and struck straight into Ishimaru’s loudly beating heart. There was a loud scrape of an object against another object. And then another footstep. The rhythm repeated, growing louder and louder and nearer and nearer until he was sure that it was only a couple of feet away. He took a deep breath and turned on the flashlight, aiming straight at the intruder’s direction, and was met with a pair of steady, lavender eyes.

“Come with me,” Kyouko Kirigiri spoke with certainty, as if Ishimaru had no choice but to agree to come with her. The hall monitor’s jaw dropped, his flashlight traveling down the length of her body to discover that she was holding a crutch under one arm and that one of her legs was wrapped in a cast,

“Kirigiri! You should be in the hospital!” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m working on a case. A silly little bone injury should not impede my professionalism. Now, come with me. And keep that flashlight trained ahead.”

He nodded and did as she said. The interior of Hope’s Peak Academy didn’t at all look intimidating or elegant in the dark. Like this, it looked like it was in the middle of deep hibernation. They approached the elevator and Kirigiri pushed a button on it. 

“Uh, does this elevator even work?” Ishimaru asked, considering that it was nighttime, it wouldn’t make sense for the elevator to still be operating.

“Oh, silly me. We should probably take the stairs,” Kirigiri drawled sarcastically. Ishimaru nearly slapped himself. Crutches, right.

The lights above the elevator doors came to life and a few seconds later, they opened, the inside emitting a light that shone through all the way to the end of the hall. They entered and Kirigiri pressed the button for the topmost floor.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, wanting to be sure that this didn’t strain Kirigiri in any way. She shot him another of her serious and rather intimidating stares.

“I am in perfect working condition, I assure you.”

Ishimaru nodded, deciding not to push it. He was afraid he’d made her angry. Kirigiri reached into the pocket of her blazer and took out a small plastic-wrapped object. “Happy birthday,” she said, handing it to him.

Ishimaru glanced left and right, not sure why this was happening so many times today but concluded that this time, it was definitely best that he didn’t object to the gift. He took it from her and opened it to reveal a set of fountain pen ink refills. Ishimaru opened his mouth, but Kirigiri beat him to it.

“I am not very good at giving gifts,” she said softly as the doors opened and they stepped out. “In fact, such acts of socialization are usually beyond me.”

“I understand completely how you feel.” He put the refills inside his pocket and slowed the pacing of his walk so as not to leave Kirigiri behind. It was hard to discern the halls in the dark, but based on his memory it seemed that they were heading for the greenhouse. “In fact, I am very surprised at your actions today. You and Naegi and Fujisaki. It was quite lucky for me that the sick teachers got healed today and I didn’t have much work to do anymore.”

“Did they send you out the moment you stepped in?”

“Y-yeah, actually, they did.”

Kirigiri smiled. “Naegi told them that it was your birthday. That’s why they let you go early.”

Ishimaru frowned slightly. “Did Naegi tell you this plan?”

She shook her head.

“Then how do you know for sure?”

“Naegi is the most predictable person I know,” she said fondly. “And strangely, also the most interesting.”

“You know him just like… like you know the criminals that you chase, don’t you?”

“No,” she said sternly. “Nothing like that at all.”

He nodded. “You and Naegi, you really are very good for each other, aren’t you?”

“Where are you going with this line of questioning?”

“N-nothing! I was just… observing.”

They were quiet for the next few minutes. Ishimaru spoke again, “So, what do you plan on doing now? About the killer, I mean.”

She sighed. “I admit, before I can execute any proper plan, I’m going to need some time to… recuperate.” She glanced down sorrowfully at her broken leg. “I will just have to hope that she won’t be making her next move any time soon.”

They stopped before the doors of the greenhouse. Kirigiri stepped off to one side to lean on the wall and fish something from her pocket.

“Isn’t this supposed to be locked?” he asked. His eyes widened completely when he saw Kirigiri take out a single key. 

She handed it to him, her lips curled up into an amused smile. “Yes, Ishimaru, I am a detective. However, you are also forgetting that I am the Headmaster’s daughter as well. Now get in there.”

“What?” Ishimaru blurted out, but Kirigiri had already opened the door and shoved him inside before he could fully process what was happening. The door closed behind him and he was swallowed in complete darkness again. “Wait!” He yelled, hoping she was still there and that she could hear him. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“Calm down, Ishimaru. I’m just right outside this door,” she replied calmly. “Just be quiet and wait.”

“A-are you sure? This is starting to scare me. Honestly.” Ishimaru gulped and adjusted the collar of his shirt. A deafening silence filled the room, and though there was a soft light that came from the night sky due to the glass dome above him, it still wasn’t enough for him to see around him. He took a deep breath and heard nothing but the sound of his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He took a step forward. One beat. He took another. Two beats. Three.

There was a rustle of movement behind him. Ishimaru braced himself when suddenly a hand came to settle on his hip and he felt the length of a forearm resting along the back of his waist. In a flurry of movement, he gasped, spun around on his heel and slammed his fist on the intruder’s face.

“OWWW! SHIT PISS MOTHERFUCKER, FUUUUUCK!” 

Ishimaru’s stomach dropped as he narrowed his eyes in the darkness and gasped. “Mondo?! What on earth are you doing?”

As Ishimaru’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out Oowada’s moving figure as he clutched his jaw and groaned in pain, his purple eyes glaring daggers at his own. “I was gonna surprise you, dumbass! Fucking hell! Why’d you punch me?”

“I’m sorry! I am truly, deeply sorry! But kyoudai, sneaking up on me in the dark isn’t exactly the best way to surprise me.”

Oowada’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Duly noted,” he grumbled.

Ishimaru was about to inquire about his injury when suddenly Oowada’s face became clearer, his whole form illuminated by a soft ambient light coming from behind him. The entire room was lit up with little fairy lights draped all over the flowers and the trees and the bushes. Ishimaru looked around, his mouth open, as every single piece of greenery shone with beautiful gentility, greeting him in the most wonderful and relaxing way possible. He looked back at Oowada, head tilted in confusion. It was only then that he noticed that the biker looked very different. He stood straighter. His Hope’s Peak uniform was in pristine condition, despite the fact that he didn’t even attend classes that day. The knot of his necktie was done perfectly in a way that made it obvious that he didn’t tie it on his own. Oowada’s eyes shone with slight amusement mixed with anxiety. Above all though what was even more alarming was his hair, which was gelled back and swept gracefully at the top of his head instead of forced into his usual pompadour. 

Oowada took note of Ishimaru’s scrutiny and a faint shade of pink arose on his cheeks. “I-I look ridiculous, don’t I? In fact, this whole thing is stupid and really, really cheesy. Hell, this was all Chi’s idea. I swear, I’ve got nothing to do with this.”

“I like it,” Ishimaru replied promptly. Softly. Oowada was stunned into silence and the hall monitor spoke again. “Your hair, I mean. It looks good on you.”

Oowada made a strangled choking noise and replied nervously. “Just shut up. Really, shut up.”

Ishimaru smiled and took a deep breath. “I was wondering where you were the entire day, but now that you’re here, I’m glad!” He gestured towards the room and asked, “But what is all this for?”

“Well, Chihiro… She, uh, thought it would be umm…” The biker’s face flushed deeply as he spoke. “…Romantic.”

Red pupils blew wide for a moment before staring off at the ground. “Oh…” Ishimaru replied, wringing his fingers behind his back. He bit his lip to keep himself from smiling, not knowing why he was even having the urge to smile in the first place.

Oowada cleared his throat, causing the hall monitor to look back up at him. “I have to… I’ve some stuff I gotta say, which was why I brought you in here actually.”

“You couldn’t have just told me these things under more… usual circumstances?”

He shook his head. “Nope. It’s a bit more serious than that. Go over to that bush over there,” Oowada said, pointing towards a pile of rose bushes a few feet away. Wordlessly, Ishimaru did as he was told and found something dark and leathery on the ground behind the pile of leaves. He stooped over and picked it up. It was bigger than expected. He held it up in the air as it unfolded before him. His jaw dropped as he saw that he was holding in his hands Oowada’s Crazy Diamonds jacket.

“M-Mondo? What is your coat doing here?”

“Ishi, I quit the gang.”

Ishimaru’s head snapped towards him at lightning speed. “You what?“

Oowada shrugged, but in his eyes there was sorrow. “I remember all that stuff you told me, about how I shouldn’t be tryina’ be someone I’m not and I should be my own person or some shit. Right now, I have no idea who that person is, but I’m willing to try and find out.”

A small frown appeared on Ishimaru’s face as he looked back at the coat in his hands. “So you just walked in there and told them you were done? That’s it?”

“Obviously it was a bit more complex than that. Look, Ishi, it’s not a big deal.”

“Those people looked up to you, Mondo. You were their leader.”

“And I feel sorry for leaving them. I really do, but this whole gang business thing… trying to be like aniki… It’s just making me more miserable.” He approached the hall monitor, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Kyoudai, look at me.”

Ishimaru shifted his position to face him fully. They stood four feet apart. The tails of the jacket grazed the ground as Ishimaru held onto it with limp arms. 

“I’m done with it,” Oowada said, his voice coming to life with clarity. “I’m done living in my brother’s shadow. I’m done wasting all my efforts into making sure he lives on because obviously, he’s dead as a doorknob and there ain’t nothing I can do about that.”

“Mondo…”

“I’m done with the gang, and with the violence and all that shit. And I may not be done with the swearing because that’s a part of me you’re just gonna have to learn and live with, but I’m definitely done with everything else from my past that has done nothing but hold me back when I’m only tryina’ move forward.” Oowada released a deep breath and took a step closer, eyes locked intently on Ishimaru’s.

“What exactly does all that mean?” 

Oowada reached inside his blazer and procured at item from it, which he then handed to Ishimaru. “Happy birthday.”

Confused, the hall monitor folded Oowada’s jacket neatly and set it down on the ground. He looked down at what he’d been given and was met with the sight of bright red-orange flames on a paperback cover. Daiya’s book. “No,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes welling up with tears. “Mondo Oowada, what on earth are you thinking? This is the only remembrance you have of your brother, I-I can’t possibly accept this!”

“It’ll be much better cared for in your hands than mine. I want you to have it.” 

Ishimaru tried to hand it back to him. “No,” he said firmly. “You can give me any gift you want, but not this one. It’s too important to you.”

Oowada frowned and placed his hands over Ishimaru’s, pushing the book towards the hall monitor’s chest. “It’s not important to me anymore. And I know you’ve always wanted it, so I’m giving it to you. Why can’t you just accept it and be done with it?”

“Because I don’t understand what’s going on!” Ishimaru yelled in frustration as he looked up at him. “First, you lead me into this place for no apparent reason, then you tell me you quit your gang, and now you’re handing me a significant item of remembrance from your brother and expect me to be ‘done with it’! Mondo, what is really going on?”

Oowada let out a low growl, his hands coming to rest on Ishimaru’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, but the crinkle present in the space between his eyebrows made it evident that he was still strained. “Kiyotaka…” he whispered. The prefect stiffened a little, surprised to hear him use his first name. 

“It’s okay,” Ishimaru replied in a noticeably calmer tone. The frown on Oowada’s face let up a bit. “Hey, I’m not mad. I would just like to hear an explanation. A proper one. As you know that I am always clueless about social interactions.”

Oowada opened his eyes and let out a smirk. “Yeah, I know that very well. Trust me.”

“So please explain to me why you are giving me something that is obviously very important to you.”

“Because you’re more important,” he said, voice crystal clear. “I always thought my life sucked, but I never really had the guts to actually find out why it sucked, so I just went along. But then you came in and you basically made my whole world look like shit in comparison. I realized what was wrong with the way I lived, that it’s because I’ve been holding on to too many ghosts.”

Ishimaru shook his head. “You figured that out for yourself, Mondo. I can’t take all the credit.”

“No, I didn’t! I’m stupid, remember? You really think my life would be worth half what it is now if I hadn’t met you?”

Ishimaru may have stopped breathing. The world dissolved around him until he was left with only the sight of the intense expression on Oowada’s face. His heart skipped a bit. “No,” he said, “Under no circumstance did I think that I could have much of an effect on you. I always just thought that you hung around with me because you pitied me for my lonely disposition.”

Oowada gritted his teeth, his nails digging into Ishimaru’s shoulders. “Do you even have any idea how much time I wasted just thinking about you, you asshole?”

“I told you, I—”

“Don’t ever tell me you’re worth nothing to me. Don’t you ever do that and don’t you even allow yourself to think of such bullshit like that.”

The hall monitor hugged the book he’d been holding to his chest, as if the act would relieve the clenching in his ribcage. “Okay.”

“And especially not when I am trying so hard to be romantic here.”

“You’re being romantic?” Ishimaru asked, blushing.

“Yeah, and you’re not helping. So let me finish what I was saying, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Okay, uhh…” Oowada’s hands fell limply at his sides as he stared off into space. “Fuck. Chi told me to say something, but I completely forgot what it was.”

“Just say what you mean, Mondo. I am sure that it will be just as heartfelt.”

The biker took a deep breath, his form quivering slightly before letting out his words all in one go. “I’m an idiot. I don’t know shit about anatomy and science and fractions still confuse the heck out of me. I beat up people for fun and I’m pretty much a useless addition to society. I always thought I wasn’t meant to be born, you know? Like I was just crashing this one big party. But then I met you, and I was finally worth something. I felt that maybe, maybe I can make myself useful if I can make you feel just a little bit better. And if you’re happy, really truly happy—and not just cardboard smiles on a politician’s face happy because that shit’s pretty terrifying, then I’d have done all that I should. Oh, and uh, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, will you be my boyfriend?”

This time, Ishimaru was sure that he really stopped breathing. He opened his mouth but he found himself at a loss for words. His heart pounded in his chest, growing even louder up to his ears as he felt warmth from head to toe. He bit his lip and could not bring himself to meet Oowada’s inquisitive gaze. The soft lights that radiated from the plants glowed even brighter, giving him a sense of calm even though his insides were heated with staggering activity. He snuck a glance at Oowada and never had he seen him look so vulnerable as he was now. Was it true, then? Could he really affect Oowada that much?

He took a step closer and breathed in his musky scent. Oowada had actually taken an effort today and he smelled of flowers and perfume. His insides were a muddle of racing thoughts and emotions, of joy and adrenaline and confusion and courage. He looked at his biker with a new set of eyes, ones that held stars in them. His brother. His best friend. The person that taught him how not to be lonely anymore. The one who showed him how to live beyond his horizons. While he was thankful for the company that Naegi and Fujisaki provided, Oowada was different, had always been different from the start. He craved for Oowada’s company like he craved no other thing. He wanted to stay by his side for however long he was allowed to. He wanted to feel the safety and certainty that his arms provided. Ishimaru had always thought that he was strong. He always faced his problems all on his own and was quite good at it. The universe conjured up an entire life around him that made it clear to him that he was meant to walk alone, and he accepted that fate wholeheartedly. Until Oowada came and he realized just how weak he was, and just how much he wanted to rely on another person from then on.

He could see the anxiety in Oowada’s features as he waited for his answer. Ishimaru pressed his forehead at the base of Oowada’s neck, just right below his collarbones. He sighed and breathed in the intensified scent, let it fill up his thoughts and send butterflies to his stomach. “I love you,” he murmured, his eyes drifting shut. His heart sped up to its extremity. The tips of his fingers tingled with sensations that shot up his arms and concentrated on his midsection area. He spoke again, this time with more certainty. “I love you, Mondo.”

He felt Oowada freeze against him. “Wh-what? Why the hell would you do that?!”

Ishimaru shook his head, his face still hidden on Oowada’s chest. Tears poured freely down his cheeks and he made light sniffles against Oowada’s shirt. Oowada placed a hand gently on his chin and brought up his face so that they looked eye to eye. Ishimaru whimpered. “I do. Most ardently. Don’t ask me how or why, because I am very bad at these things. A-and there’s a huge possibility that I am not suitable to be a romantic partner and that I will fail a lot of times and you will be very frustrated with me, but I love you. I don’t know anything else.”

“You… you nerd,” sweet and romantic Oowada replied. “God, you’re such a moron.”

“Hmmm.”

“But that’s a yes, right?”

The hall monitor lifted his head from Oowada’s chest and looked up at him and very firmly nodded. Oowada let out a stuttering breath that played past the huge grin that slowly took up his face. The blush on his cheeks became even more prominent as he used his thumbs to wipe away the hall monitor’s tears. He placed his palm on Ishimaru’s cheek and leaned in until their noses brushed. Ishimaru closed his eyes, obviously waiting, but Oowada shook his head. “I…” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat, figuring that he should probably ask for a proper permission now. “Damn. I… I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Ishimaru turned his head away, blushing. He bit his lip in a way that made Oowada go nearly mad with want. At the same time, though, he also found it adorable. “That idea… is not unwelcome,” the prefect said shyly.

Chuckling, Oowada perched Ishimaru’s chin on his hand and captured his lips in a chaste but sweet kiss. Ishimaru hummed happily against it, his mouth pulling up into a huge smile. 

They pulled back quickly, too embarrassed to take it further. The two stared anywhere but at each other, both wearing flushed faces and lopsided grins. Ishimaru took another look around the place. “Thank you for all this, by the way. It is evident that you worked hard and I appreciate the effort. And the things that you said, thank you for that too. However, I do not think that you should quit your gang.” Ishimaru lowered his head and handed the biker back his coat. Oowada frowned.

“What? I thought you’d be happy about me quittin’? What’s with all this?”

Ishimaru shook his head. “While it does relieve me of a heavy heart to know that you will be a lot safer, being a gang leader is what defines you. I can’t take that away from you, Mondo.”

“But you aren’t—”

“At least take some time to think about it. You’re making a huge decision here, and I do not want to be the cause of your misery should you regret it in the future,” the prefect replied firmly. When Oowada looked like he was about to argue, he added, “Do it or I shall be obliged to punch you again.”

Oowada took a step back, genuine fear written all over his features. Ishimaru smiled triumphantly. Oowada sighed. This nerdy hall monitor really was gonna be the death of him.

With everything that had happened, they decided that it was time to call it a day and walked out of the room together. Kirigiri greeted them with her usual smile, the smile that didn’t make it look like she was smiling at all. But as Ishimaru peered down at her face and saw with more clarity, he knew it was there. When they exited the gates of Hope’s Peak, they found Naegi still standing on the pavement. His eyes lit up when they approached and he jogged over to them.

“Naegi, you’re still here,” said Ishimaru. He looked around for a bit and added, “Where is Chihiro?”

“Oh. Uh, she said she wanted to go home early. Wanted to work on another project or something. It’s computer stuff and I don’t really understand,” Naegi replied, smiling.

“Why didn’t you go home too? Surely there was nothing enjoyable about standing alone on a sidewalk,” Ishimaru said. He felt a jab to his ribs and looked over at Oowada, who raised his eyebrows at him, his eyes sweeping repeatedly at Kirigiri’s direction. Ishimaru made a loud “Ah! I get it!” and Oowada facepalmed.

“Anyway,” Oowada said, breaking through the brief moment of silence, “I’ll be taking Ishi home. You guys stay safe or whatever.” He walked off, getting a head start already. Ishimaru followed, but then stopped and turned back to see Naegi shyly taking Kirigiri’s hand and they walked in the other direction. Ishimaru smiled. This was truly a day for good things. He faced forward once again and found Oowada even farther off. He hastened his steps, feeling the night hugging him, forming pictures and sceneries around him. He kept his eyes on Oowada, and it was as if the universe was serving him entirely, handing him every thing he’d ever wanted on a silver platter. Ishimaru was a man of dreams, but at the moment, he knew he couldn’t want anything more than reality.

-

However dreamlike the past few events had been, the universe did not bide its time in reminding our beloved teenagers of the severity of the situation they were in. This manifested itself the very next day, when a frantic Oowada entered the classroom and strode straight over to the purple-haired detective. He was breathing heavily, his face a mess of strenuous activity. Ishimaru, who had been arranging some papers on his desk, saw this and went over. He placed a careful hand on Oowada’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Oowada paid him no mind and kept his eyes on Kirigiri, waiting for her to look up at him. When she finally did, she took one look at him and stated, “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Oowada clenched his fists at his sides. “I can’t find her anywhere! Damn it, I tried everything!”

Kirigiri fixed him with a grave expression, the gravest they’d ever seen on her considering her usual gloomy air. “I’m deeply sorry.”

Oowada pounded his fist on Kirigiri’s desk, getting a small startle out of her. Faint terror was reflected in her irises as she struggled to remain her composure. “Where. Is. Chihiro?” Oowada said through gritted teeth.

Ishimaru gasped and rubbed his arm. “Mondo. Mondo, please. Just calm down. I’m sure we can sort this out and—”

For the first time since he entered the room, Oowada looked at the prefect, Ishimaru’s speech faltered instantly upon seeing the urgency in the gang leader’s eyes. Oowada took a long, hard look at him and his expression softened slightly. He grabbed Ishimaru’s hand on his arm and gave it a firm squeeze.

“I need you to meet me back here later after class,” Kirigiri spoke in a way that made them know how much danger they were in. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

Waiting through an entire day was agony for Oowada, but the time finally came when he, Ishimaru, and Naegi met with Kirigiri that afternoon. They waited until they were the only people left in the room before Kirigiri brought out another piece of paper and showed it to them.

Alarmed?

It’s all in your hands now, little Sherlock.

Naegi gulped visibly, taking the paper with trembling hands. “Kirigiri, do you… Do you know what this means?”

All eyes were trained on the female as she put a hand on her chin and nodded gravely. “It means that Chihiro Fujisaki is in my house.”


	27. Silver Blaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final battle. There will be an epilogue to this, don't worry.

There are days when the universe knows exactly what you want and works with all its might in your favor. Then there are some when it just refuses you altogether, forming opposing force after opposing force, making it harder to reach your goal. The best conclusion to be drawn from this is that the universe is sporadic. It does not _try_ to be in anyone’s favor, even though it does. The only way to overcome this arbitrariness of signs and events is if you’re extremely lucky. Only then can you achieve anything.

 

But for one certain luckster, this was the day that made him question how exactly the universe worked.

 

Makoto Naegi’s footsteps were heavy as he ran along the hallowed halls of an abandoned home. He felt sick, as if his insides were clawing their way to his extremities. He paced on the rickety wooden floor, back and forth and back and forth, messing up his unruly sandy brown hair. 

 

There was a stinging pain lodged in his throat as he opened the door to yet another empty room. He released the breath he had been holding and took one quick glance all over it. Someone cleared their throat behind him and he whirled around at the speed of light, gasping. When he only saw Ishimaru, he heaved a sigh of relief.

 

“I apologize for frightening you,” said the hall monitor. “Have you found her?”

 

Naegi, still a bit breathless from the sudden shock, dejectedly shook his head. 

 

“Oh.” The disappointment was evident in his tone. “I-I don’t think we’ve checked the second floor yet. I should probably…”

 

“The stairs are old and infested with termites. Watch your step,” Naegi warned.

 

Ishimaru nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’ll just—”

 

“Or would you rather I do it?” Naegi offered, but he wasn’t sure why. The house freaked him out as it was. But looking at the empty Ishimaru shell before him cried out to his helpful nature. “I mean, I’m a lot lighter than you are. There’s less of a chance that they’ll give if it were me.”

 

Ishimaru’s brows furrowed and mulled over his offer for a few seconds. “Alright. Just… please. If you find anything…”

 

“I’ll let you know immediately.”

 

When Kirigiri received that note, she immediately deduced that Chihiro Fujisaki was somewhere in this home. Kirigiri’s home. Or, _was_ her home. The moment the she cryptically made the announcement about the whereabouts of Chihiro Fujisaki, she dropped her crutches and took off running, leaving the boys to trail after her. No one spoke as their feet beat on the pavement and sweat ran down the sides of their foreheads. Kirigiri hobbled over as best as she could without putting too much pressure on her broken foot. Naegi watched her carefully as they ran. No one spoke as they made their way to their designation. They all trusted Kirigiri to know what to do. She always knew.

 

Kirigiri had led them to a small structure a few blocks away. Naegi wondered why it looked familiar, then he realized that it was because he’d been here before. Once. The first time he and Kirigiri walked home together, she told him that this was her house, but he later found that to be a lie. At the time, he’d been only a little skeptic. But in his defense, it had been nearing nighttime and the shady trees near the driveway kept him from getting a better view. Now, under the clear afternoon sunlight he could see that he should’ve known better. This place was desolate and uninhabitable.

 

The walls were of a sickly gray and everything was gloomy. It exuded a sense of doom in Naegi’s usually optimistic nature. It was then that he realized that Kirigiri did not lie. This really had been her house. Kirigiri’s previous house had been burned.

 

And by the looks of it, it happened a long time ago. He couldn’t think of a reason why Kirigiri’s family would still choose to keep it in that state, but then again that wasn’t the strangest thing about them that he’d heard of. 

 

Only Naegi, Oowada, and Ishimaru entered the house. When Kirigiri tried to go with them, the luckster put a hand on his shoulder and told him to stay. Kirigiri, not one to take orders from just anyone, sent him an icy glare. “I’m going in and you can’t stop me.”

 

Naegi remained firm. “ _No!_ Kirigiri, you’re injured and you left your crutches. You can’t go in!”

 

“This is _my_ house, _my_ fault, and therefore it is _my_ job to see to it that Fujisaki makes it out safely,” she said, shoving his shoulder. Her face, sweat-slicked and paper white, struggled to maintain its usual composure. Her jaw was hard and her eyes unsteady. She was in immense pain. She moved past Naegi, only to be stopped by Ishimaru who looked on her gravely.

 

“Kirigiri-san, Naegi is correct. We have no idea what’s in there and you’re in no condition to face the dangers that might come. You have your phone, do you not? We will be in touch with you the whole time.”

 

Kirigiri’s breaths turned heavy. They were locked in an intense battle of stubbornness, both wanting to dominate the other without being disrespectful. It would have made for an amusing sight, were it not for the severity of the situation.

 

“I did not mean to drag you into this,” she said, which Naegi took as a sign of resignation. _Damn,_ he thought.Ishimaru was good.

 

“Chihiro is our friend too. You can trust us to do whatever we can to ensure her safety,” Ishimaru replied.

 

And, as if on cue, a loud bang erupted from direction of the house. They jolted in surprise and looked over to see a cloud of dust hovering over the house’s front and a silhouette of a man. The dust cleared up and revealed Mondo Oowada, chest heaving and tightly clenched fists peppered with arrays of pink, white, and crimson red. The front door hadn’t just been unhinged, it _exploded._

 

Ishimaru let out a mortified gasp. “Mondo! That is destruction of private property!”

 

But the gang leader wasn’t listening, and went in without waiting for any of the others. And that was how the three men found themselves inside this, for lack of a better word, haunted house, their breaths bated with anticipation but silent with fear and remorse.

 

Naegi had wrapped a clammy hand on his phone, hearing nothing but white background noise on the other line. He took a deep breath. “Going up,” he whispered into the phone. Kirigiri only hummed in response, and the noise was back on.

 

He braced himself up the worn stairs of the old house. It creaked and rattled slightly under his feet, but did not give way. He carefully avoided the patches of black on each wooden plank and was able to make it through to the second floor without falling. It led out to a narrow hallway with about three doors on one side. Starting with the one closest to him, he began his search.

 

The first room was a small, but adequate bedroom. Or at least, it used to be. Naegi could make out some patches of bright purple wallpaper that had peeled off in some places and weathered brown on the surface. There was a single bed pushed at the corner, the wooden headboard charred beyond recognition. He didn’t even want to go near the mattress for fear of what bug species had started to form colonies in it. One wall was covered entirely with wooden shelves, but they were devoid of any books. It left Naegi cold as he leaned down to touch the thin rug on the floor with a dinosaur’s face on it, also dark and burnt crisp at the edges. From there, he knew there can be no mistake. He was standing in Kirigiri’s room.

 

He could imagine a younger version of the detective, with her astounding knowledge locked up in such a small frame. He could almost see her in the room, jumping over the burnt dinosaur rug then climbing up to the top shelf to retrieve a heavy encyclopedia so that she could take notes on human anatomy or decomposition. He could see her wearing her long hair in two braids as she sat on the bed with the book propped up on her small lap. He could see her so clearly, it hurt. 

 

It hurt because he had been so stupid. He was so stupid to pick a fight with her on a matter that she knew far more about than he did. And now, with the possibility of dying in this very house high upon his head, he knew he was stupid because his last words to the person that he loved was, essentially, that he didn’t trust her skills. That he didn’t believe in her capabilities. That she couldn’t possibly win this fight.

 

“Don’t blame yourself,” her voice drifted from the phone. 

 

“H-how did you—”

 

“You were right. It’s not Ikusaba.”

 

He stared grimly at the dinosaur’s face. “It’s not? You can’t be serious. It’s obviously connected to her. I don’t know why I was so blind!”

 

“It’s not her. I was right, but it’s not her.”

 

“You’re not making any sense!”

 

“She killed Inuzuka, that’s for sure. But she’s not the one. Your unwavering faith in her is not unfounded. I admit, I… I shouldn’t have been too hasty.”

 

“She’s killed people! What are you saying?”

 

“The Mastermind. That’s who we’re after. I had formed a theory. The theory of a crime-feeding duo of some sort that’s behind all this, but I pushed it out of my mind as new evidence showed up and I—”

 

“‘ _There are two of them.’_ You wrote that in your notebook.” It all made sense now.

 

“Yes, but I got so eager at the idea of a single perpetrator coming to challenge me and…” she cut herself off, obviously not meaning to say what she just did. “I mean, I’d been blind. I should’ve stayed on that track. If I did, it wouldn’t have gotten this far and this would’ve been over much sooner. _Agh!_ ”

 

Naegi had never heard her yell over frustration before. It just wasn’t like her to be so… expressive. What had this Mastermind done to her?

 

“There’s no use going over the past,” he told her.

 

“Do you prefer to dwell on the future that awaits you then?”

 

A shiver ran down Naegi’s spine as he felt a sudden presence in the room. He twisted, eyes narrowing and taking in every object within his field of view. “I think someone’s hiding here.”

 

“Then get out.”

 

“Think I’d rather face this person instead.”

 

“ _Naegi_ ,” she spat. “Not. When you’re. Alone. Get out of there. Go find the others.”

 

Something told him that he really shouldn’t get out of the room, but the urgency in Kirigiri’s voice gave him no choice but to comply.

 

The hall was empty. Though he wanted to call out for Ishimaru and Oowada, he held his tongue and decided to listen to any signs of life in the house.

 

Ishimaru’s yell, as loud as ever he’d heard it while patrolling the school corridors, came from the last room of the hall. He wasted no time in getting to the source of alarm, adrenaline pumping fresh in his veins. 

 

He found Ishimaru kneeling on the ground, his hands trembling. His head snapped up when Naegi entered, index finger extending outward. There was little light in this room compared to all the other rooms in the house.

 

Which should happen, as a quick scan around the room proved to Naegi what exactly was barring the light from entering. Chihiro Fujisaki’s body hung over the window, her wrists tied to the metal grills that were obviously installed there post-house burning, for this exact purpose. Another wire around her chest kept her from dangling around though her feet were some distance from the ground. She did not appear to have procured any wounds or signs of having been tortured. Naegi let out a breath at that.

 

“We found Chihiro,” he said to Kirigiri. “But she’s… Bound. Over a window.”

 

“Which window?”

 

“The third one on the second floor, facing east.”

 

He could hear her movement as she ran, or rather hobbled, over to the mentioned side.

 

“Yes I can see a silhouette. I wonder why I didn’t notice that when I rounded the perimeter after you entered. Do you know why that is?”

 

Naegi nodded, though she obviously couldn’t see. “It’s another message that we’re not meant to find just Chihiro in here. The Mastermind is in here as well and had bound Chihiro while we were all inside.”

 

“I’d give you a gold star if the circumstances were more appropriate. Be careful.”

 

Ishimaru cut in. “She’s alive. I checked her breathing.”

 

“Minor mercy,” retorted Kirigiri through the speaker phone. “She’s not gonna be for long if you encounter the Mastermind. Right now our best shot is for you to see if you can get out safely, but obviously we’re too far in. It’s not gonna be that simple.”

 

Ishimaru set to work on undoing the binds on Fujisaki’s wrists. Naegi examined the room. “Where’s Oowada?” He looked to Ishimaru, hoping for an answer, but the hall monitor only shrugged.

 

How odd. Considering how loud Ishimaru’s yell was when he found Fujisaki, it was impossible for Oowada not to have heard. He should’ve been in the room by now.

 

“I’ll go check the next room,” Naegi said. Ishimaru had his lower lip jammed between his teeth as beads of sweat travelled over his brows. Tension was evident in his composure, but he did manage to remove completely the ropes on Fujisaki’s right wrist.

 

As Naegi predicted, the room he’d yet to check was intended to be a bathroom adjoining the two bedrooms of the house. The tiles were blackened and the porcelain sink was charred beyond recognition. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on that, as he saw Oowada’s unconscious form on the floor of the shower area, his back slumped and his hands to his sides. The blood in his body turned to ice.

 

“I-Ishimaru! I think you should see this…” Within seconds, the hall monitor stood at his side. A startling noise erupted from the prefect’s throat, one that could’ve split the heavens above where they stood. He ran forward and knelt beside Oowada’s body, checking the vitals. Though it was evident from the rise and fall of his heavy chest that Oowada, like Fujisaki, was only unconscious. 

 

“What did they _do_?” Naegi couldn’t think of an answer to Ishimaru’s question. Any force that could knock down Oowada was definitely not to be messed around with.

 

From the other end of the line, Kirigiri gasped. “She’s keeping all of you alive. You’re not gonna die today.”

 

“Um, yay?” countered Naegi.

 

“Naegi, Ishimaru, listen. I don’t know what she’s planning to do with you, though I may have a conjecture, but just try to get out. All of you. And whatever happens, make sure you keep me in the loop through this phone call, alright?”

 

“Yes, sir!” Ishimaru replied, throwing Oowada’s arm over his shoulders and leaping up to his feet.

 

That meant Naegi was to take care of Fujisaki. He turned back to the door, which remained wide open through all the commotion. However, before he could cross over to the hall, a row of metal bars dropped from the top of the door frame. Its collision with the ground produced a loud bang that Naegi was sure shook the entire floor.

 

“We’re trapped!” he yelled into his phone. “Something barred us from getting out of the bathroom and it’s—” Ishimaru attempted to bend one of the bars by ramming his upper body into it but to no avail “—It’s really sturdy.”

 

“Okay, I want you two to calm down,” Kirigiri said in a soothing tone. Naegi took a deep breath. “You’re in a locked room, but it’s not completely closed. Can you fit an arm in between the bars?”

 

“Yes,” Ishimaru replied. “But nothing past the elbow, which I think will restrict movement significantly.”

 

“Try anyway. See if you can reach for anything.”

 

Ishimaru followed the command, fitting his arm between the bars. “I don’t think this will do anything.”

 

Naegi’s sight turned black for a split second. The moment he regained his vision, he grabbed his forehead and tried to shake the wooziness away. “Whoa…”

 

“W-what was that?” the prefect asked.

 

“It happened to you too?”

 

The world turned black once more. This time, for longer. Three seconds at least. _What’s going on?_

 

Naegi turned around just in time to see a ghastly green smoke coming out of the shower head. Panic surged up to his throat. He screamed. His eyes were shutting tight. _No! Must. Fight. It!_

 

“Naegi?” Kirigiri’s voice was faint as the phone dropped from his hand. “Naegi! Tell me what’s going on in there!”

 

He reached out a hand to try to grab his phone. His hand was warped all over. It didn’t take long for him to drop to the floor after that, the phone just a few inches out of his reach. _I can’t let her win._ He had no idea whether Ishimaru had fallen as well, but he guessed this was the same thing that happened to Oowada. His last thought before completely succumbing to oblivion, as he listened to Kirigiri’s voice slowly filling up with dread, was that should this not kill him he hoped to wake up and find that all this had been an outrageous dream.

 

.

 

There was nothing but noise from the other end of the line. Kirigiri slammed her phone shut, ending the call.

 

She stood still at the east side of the house. _Her_ house. Thoughts swarming. Beats in her head. Can’t hear her thoughts. Friends are not okay. Getting harder to breathe. Must. _Think!_

 

She considered going inside and settling the matter herself, but with not just one but _four_ people within the Mastermind’s hands now, it would be much easier to trap herself in the shambled web of her sphere of influence. No. There must be no circumstance where all five of them are on one side of the house. She must stay put.

 

But to stay outside, injured and alone, was to be more vulnerable as well. She thought not only of her safety, but also of what the Mastermind expected to happen this day. She cannot present herself as weak and vulnerable. The Mastermind would want a fight so she must be in top condition to provide that and ultimately, probably, _hopefully,_ save her friends.

 

 _NO!_ The grip on her phone tightened as she threw out a frustrated groan. The entire reason they were in this mess was because she became too enthralled by the prospect of the game that, in certain cases, she prioritized it over the safety of innocent people. She thought of Naegi, whose innocent eyes and words full of hope she’d drawn right into this awful world that she walked amongst. Naegi, who was trapped inside the house and now it really was all in her hands. She was not to make the same mistake again. 

 

The Mastermind was bound to make a move to call her in soon. But she couldn’t wait that long. Something must be done to speed up the process. 

 

Kirigiri called for backup.

 

Not twenty minutes later the street outside the house was piled with police cars and vans. The officers were clad in bullet proof vests and did not come unarmed. They flocked around Kirigiri, waiting for more information. But she could give them no more than she’d already told over the phone. “Get in your positions,” she said. “We have a hostage situation in our hands.”

 

One of the higher ranking officers stepped up in front of her, his eyes wary as he took her in. Probably to scrutinize her age or her gender. She sent a sharp glare back, reminding him who was really in control of the situation.

 

“I’ve called for a negotiator,” said the officer, smug smile on his face. “Should be here any minute now.”

 

Kirigiri made the coldest smile she could muster. “No need. I’ll be doing the negotiations here.”

 

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Miss, I don’t think you’re fully aware of what to expect when dealing with hostage takers. You won’t stand a chance.”

 

“Please, officer.” She turned back around to face the house so that the officer wouldn’t notice the gleam in her eye. The prospect of negotiating with the Mastermind excited her so. “It will be my pleasure.” 

 

She hobbled over to the front door. The officer fell into step beside her, but she did not spare a look in his direction. “You are prepared to risk innocent lives because of your immaturity? Don’t be an idiot. Let the experts handle this.”

 

“No,” she spat, hoping that her rudeness would send the intended message.

 

“Do you even know the protocol for these kinds of situations?”

 

“I am a trained detective. I’m quite familiar with the process.”

 

“Have you been involved in a hostage taking situation before?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then you—”

 

“ _Look._ ” She halted her steps and faced him. The officer, not expecting her action, took a step back in surprise. “Any second now, the perpetrator will make an attempt to communicate with me and _I will let her._ From what I can see, your men are armed enough and prepared to do a full breach if necessary. I don’t think it will be. Breaching the place will almost certainly _kill_ the hostages so don’t even try.”

 

She noticed his nervous gulp and couldn’t stamp down her confident smile. “I will, to the best of my ability, negotiate with the Mastermind. Rest assured, officer, these hostages will be handed to you alive by the end of the night. As you can see, I have had no formal training under negotiating with hostage takers, but I do know criminals to a broad extent and therefore have a fair grip on the situation.”

 

“Then why did you call us?”

 

This time, she couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. “You make for good decor. She’ll love it.”

 

The phone in her hand started ringing. Glancing down at the caller ID, she read Naegi’s name.

 

“Detective Kirigiri,” she answered smoothly. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t stamp down her nervousness so that she could intimidate the officer still frowning in her direction. 

 

“K-Kirigiri…” in came Naegi’s voice. But it didn’t sound like him at all. This voice was subdued somehow. “W-W-welc-come… to the… game… I have been… expec _—_ ting you.” _Forced._

 

“Naegi…”

 

“…Though I admit it—” he gasped, “—took you a while.”

 

She released a shaky breath. “This isn’t Naegi I am speaking with.” 

 

It took him a few seconds to reply. “That is… _correct._ ” He groaned. 

 

“Don’t hurt him,” she warned.

 

“I’ll… _Ah!_ Do whatever I like.” 

 

That brief yelp of pain was enough to halt her confidence. “Where are you?”

 

“That is not… easy to answer… Essentially, I am _everywhere._ ” Naegi’s voice was wavering. “But physically, I’m standing with your… friends.”

 

“You won’t be for long.”

 

“Such… words of confidence… I’m almost tempted to… to…”

 

A flash of worry as she felt she knew what was about to happen. _Must get her away from Naegi._ “Yes?”

 

“Tempted to… _KIRIGIRI, RUN! DON’T LET HER NEAR YOU, DON’T EVEN—AAAAAAGGGHH!_ ” 

 

“Stop it!” She commanded, barking into the  phone. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it _now!_ ” She took a deep breath, attempting to recollect her detective’s instincts. “You don’t have to do this. I already know who you are. There’s no point in putting words in another person’s mouth.”

 

A shifting movement from the other end of the line. A sickly sweet feminine voice coming through. “Kirigiri, sweetie, it’s no party without someone being held at gunpoint!”

 

Kirigiri’s mouth drew up into a sneer. “And so here we are. At last. Haven’t we had enough flirtation already?”

 

From beside her, the officer drew up to full height. “If you have already identified the culprit, I suggest you—” 

 

She raised up a hand to silence him. His meaningless chatter will do nothing to help with the conversation. “Doesn’t it feel good to come out to the world in all your glory, Junko Enoshima?”

 

There was silence from the phone for a few seconds, followed by a series of cackles that made Kirigiri cringe. “It was well worth the wait, though,” Enoshima replied in a cheerful tone.

 

“Alright then. Let’s get down to business, shall we? What are your terms for the lives of the hostages?”

 

“Oh, but we’ve only just started! It took a lot of effort on my part to get you here, detective. Let’s not get _hasty_.”

 

Kirigiri stood her ground. “I am not interested in anything _you_ have to say, save if it involves the lives of the hostages.”

 

“And here I thought you came to join the party. What a shame you turned out to be so boring!”

 

Kirigiri made no reply.

 

“As if that matters,” Enoshima scoffed. “You’ll only wind up dead by the end of this ordeal anyway.”

 

“I beg to differ. You called out to me. You _wanted_ me to be here. You won’t kill me as easily.”

 

In that moment, all the lights from inside the house turned on, although no silhouette could be made out through any of the windows. “I hope you like my renovations to your old house,” she purred. “Putting the lights back up is only one of my many, _many_ accomplishments.”

 

The officer, who had remained silent through the conversation, made a move to command his troops. Kirigiri held up a hand to stop him. Now was definitely not the time to aggravate Enoshima, who talked still.

 

“And as for your previous statement, allow me to say something that will shatter all your _hopes._ ” She spat out the last word as if it were laced with venom. “You’re nothing special, Kirigiri. You never were.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

Enoshima laughed. It was a laugh so separate from the way she talked, much deeper, raspier. A laugh that could claw its way to your innards. A laughed that made it seem as if she could switch voices at will. And perhaps she _could._

 

“Do you think you were the first bumbling detective I meant to lure out? Hah! If anything, you were the only one stupid enough to follow! You must be so proud of yourself now.”

 

Kirigiri grit her teeth. “So what the hell am I doing here, then?”

 

“Entertainment. I hope you enjoy the show.”

 

It was at this moment that the officer snatched the phone from Kirigiri’s hand. “I’ve had enough of this childish nonsense!” Turning on speakerphone, he barked at the receiver. “This is Officer Kei speaking! We demand to know what you want in exchange for the lives of the hostages.”

 

“Ten billion yen,” Enoshima said in a tone so filled with apathy. “And I want it delivered in a nice pink carriage.”

 

“Okay. Why don’t we try and chat about this? Perhaps we can reach a compromise.”

 

“Return the phone to the detective immediately.”

 

“Detective Kirigiri is not—”

 

“Do it or I’ll shoot!” 

 

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang from inside the walls of the house. Without thinking, Kirigiri ran full speed towards the front door, banging on the wooden door now sealed shut with whatever ‘renovations’ Enoshima had emplaced. A long screech tore free from the confines of her throat.

 

And then the disgusting cackling was back. “How amusing. I didn’t shoot any _one_ , but it was very entertaining to watch your faces fill up with complete _despair_ for that split second. Especially you, Kirigiri. It fills me up with absolute glee!”

 

Kirigiri looked up from the door and ran her hands over the surface. Her fingers closed over an imperfection which, now that she chanced upon a closer inspection, was obviously a hidden camera aimed to watch their movements. Officer Kei returned her phone.

 

“That’s better,” Enoshima said. “Back to business. The only thing I want is _you_ , Kirigiri. Get in here, face me in all of your desperate glory. And your wee little friends can walk free and unscathed. That is my only condition.”

 

-

 

Naegi glared at Enoshima, hoping to look intimidating. Or as intimidating as one can look while bound to a chair with a gun trained to his head. Enoshima’s long, well-manicured fingers curled around the handle with elegance, but not precision, an indication of her inexperience with the weapon.

 

It was the last piece of the puzzle, as if he hadn’t seen it clearly before. The real gun expert working alongside her was Ikusaba, who was no doubt an integral component in all of Enoshima’s plans. He wondered whether the soldier was in this very house right now. And he wondered too what he would do if he should find her, at the moment of revelation, when sides must be chosen and displayed for the world to see.

 

“The only thing I want is _you_ , Kirigiri. Get in here, face me in all of your desperate glory. And your wee little friends can walk free and unscathed. That is my only condition.”

 

“No!” He yelled. The chances of him being heard by his desired receptor were little, but that did not stop him from trying. “Kirigiri, don’t you dare!”

 

“ _Ugh._ ” To his surprise, this made Enoshima lower the gun instead of doing the rational villain thing and just shooting his brains off then and there. Naegi’s shoulders slumped. “Your boyfriend is infuriating! You could do so much better, you know.”

 

They were inside the first bedroom. The one that was previously Kirigiri’s. His wrists were bound by metal bands to the sides of the chair, his elbows pushed back. From observation it appeared the bands were integrated into the arms of the chair through purposeful engineering. Freaky chairs, gas chambers, and sealed doors. Enoshima really put a lot of thought into this ploy. The back of his neck ached from when Enoshima slammed the butt of her gun when he attempted to warn Kirigiri. Ishimaru and Oowada were tied to their respective chairs on either side of him. Oowada was still unconscious. Enoshima was probably in the mood to experiment when choosing which toxic gas to hit him with because it seemed he’d gotten a disproportionate amount of dosage to get him to sleep. Or maybe she realized that he was too big to be held down when conscious. But that made him wonder why she didn’t just do the same with himself and Ishimaru as well. And consequently, the made him wonder whether that amount of dosage would’ve been enough to kill the lighter body masses of himself and Ishimaru. And finally, he wondered why she _didn’t_ just up and kill them at all.

 

Ishimaru, though wide awake, was just as good as unconscious. He had retained a blank stare at the wall he was facing throughout the entire ordeal. He never spoke. Not even when Enoshima prodded his side with the gun. In fact, he made no movement at all. To be able to remain apathetic through a situation like this, Naegi wondered what things went on inside the man’s head. Or whether Enoshima had drugged him some other stuff too.

 

Either way, it seemed that the talking was left to him alone. That’s just great.

 

-

 

“I’m going in,” Kirigiri said to the phone. “But before I do I need the assurance of your safe return of the hostages.”

 

Officer Kei gripped her elbow. She whipped her head to look at him, to find him shaking his head. “Surrendering isn’t the right way.”

 

“It is if it will save my friends.”

 

“At the expense of your own life! I will not stand for this. I’m initiating a full breach.”

 

“I told you that’s not necessary!”

 

But he was already turning to his troops. “When you come up with a good idea, hit me up alright? But not this one. Definitely not this one.”

 

“I heard that,” Enoshima said, her tone teasing. “I would like to remind you, dearest detective, of what is at stake. Naegi-kun is in grave danger!” She let out a good-natured giggle. 

 

Kirigiri stared up at the lit up windows of the house, trying to deduce which room they’d be in. A single flurry of movement would betray their position. And then… And then what? What next?

 

“What will be your decision, detective? Do we have a deal?”

 

And then, as her vision had previously been shrouded in darkness, much like the lights inside the burnt house, a series of lights went up in her head. The gears clicked. The final piece of the puzzle she’d been slaving over for several months finally, _finally_ clicked into place. 

 

“What the hell are you planning, Enoshima?”

 

And just as she expected, the Mastermind let out a pleased hum. Because whatever the Mastermind had in store, Kirigiri had already walked straight into it.

 

-

 

Mukuro Ikusaba entered the room, rifle-clad and poised to fight at a moment’s notice. She was the beacon of optimal defense. The very best choice for a bodyguard, which Naegi suspected must be the reason Enoshima had manipulated her into this entire plot. He simply could not believe that Ikusaba, on her own, would be capable of committing such acts. Even here, in the direst of situations, he mustn’t lose hope in Ikusaba’s character.

 

“They’re about to instigate a full breach. The men are at position. What now, Junko?” Ikusaba refused to meet anyone’s eyes. 

 

“We all know that won’t do,” said Enoshima, her phone held at arm’s length so as not to be heard by Kirigiri. “Then the show would be cut short. No one would get to see the best part!”

 

“What _show_?” Naegi dared to ask. “Are you really so sick as to think that taking four people, _your classmates,_ hostage is entertainment?”

 

The look Enoshima gave him was deadly. “I always hated you, you know. From the very beginning I saw your sunshine and rays of… of _hope._ And it was absolutely revolting. I hated the very sight of you.”

 

“Would you feel better if you killed me, then?” He had no idea what was coming out of his mouth anymore. All he knew was that he had to get Enoshima off the phone for as long as possible to buy Kirigiri more time to think about what to do.

 

Enoshima laughed. “Like I would want _that!_ The very sight of you makes my blood boil. It enrages me, but at the same time I also feel this inexplicable desolation, as if you’re about to take me down and I keep hoping you will but you cannot. You know that, Naegi?” She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “That’s what _despair_ feels.”

 

Naegi gasped. “Then that woman? With the dead child? Mrs. Matsui, she talked about despair too. What are you, like… Like a group or something? A network?”

 

“Don’t underestimate me.” Her voice this time was a lot thicker. Richer. And so unlike the voice she had before. As if several persons lived in her one body and the very idea frightened him more than he’d like to admit. She continued. “Do not put me in the same level as that… Disgusting woman! She was dumb and hasty. She was of no use to me anymore. But she did have her days. Which was why I staged a little _present_ to thank her for her service.”

 

“You were the one who killed her son.” He was having trouble breathing now.

 

Enoshima scoffed. “All of my victims were in despair and they had prayers of thanks on their lips as they were on their last breaths. I was just getting rid of dead weights.” She rolled her eyes. “I hope you know now that the formidable foe standing in front of you is _much_ greater than a simpleton such as her.”

 

“You’re the queen of despair, then?” _Don’t talk on the phone. Don’t talk on the phone._

 

“You can say that. _Queen_ , huh? Not too shabby.” She stuck her tongue out, as if what she’d said was to become an inside joke between herself and a good old friend.

 

Naegi thought in desperation, but he could think of nothing to say. Enoshima turned around and pressed the phone back to her ear, muttering a few words he couldn’t quite make out.

 

Beside him, Oowada let out a soft groan. He was already coming to. Naegi didn’t know how to distract Enoshima further, but he did think far enough to know that her finding the gang leader awake would not bode well for any of them. He was just within reach so that Naegi could jab an elbow at his side. The movement was extremely minimal, and he wondered whether Oowada even felt it. _Please, oh please let him know what that meant!_ He tried again with marginally better success. He held his breath.

 

Oowada went back to playing dead.

 

“That settles it, then,” he heard Enoshima speak, her voice ripping through the barrier of momentary silence in the room. “I look forward to seeing you put up a fight, detective.”

 

Time seemed to stop. Naegi’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. _No!_

 

-

 

“That settles it, then. I look forward to seeing you put up a fight, detective.” And finally, Enoshima ended the call.

 

“There has to be something that I can do to stop you from doing this,” Kirigiri pleaded with Officer Kei, her expression a mask of false calm. “This is not a wise move.”

 

Officer Kei did not turn to her as he replied. He sent a nod to one of the subordinates standing by the ready ambulance. “You’re right. But we don’t really have a choice here, now do we?”

 

Kirigiri acquiesced. The officer was smarter than she thought him to be. Even though Enoshima presented the option of trading Kirigiri with the hostages, she knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. Enoshima had planned something that would end their lives nonetheless.

 

But she didn’t like the idea of aggravating her with a full breach either. Kirigiri had a feeling that would be a lot worse.

 

The officers had begun rounding the perimeter, a few getting ready at the front door and others scaling the walls and peering in through the windows. Officer Kei appeared at Kirigiri’s side. “At this point, detective, do you still have any objections?”

 

Kirigiri swallowed. “Yes,” she said, but the officer was barking commands here and there and did not hear her. Her gaze trained on the only occupied room in the house. “Because this is exactly what Enoshima wants us to do.”

 

Enoshima never wanted money. She cared not whether the hostages were killed or spared. And the most jarring realization of all, she didn’t care _the slightest_ about Kirigiri.

 

All she wanted was an audience.

 

-

 

Naegi watched as the Mastermind grabbed a seat from the hallway and returned to the room. She sat down, smiling.

 

“Winning isn’t really as fun as I thought it would be,” Enoshima said, partly to Ikusaba, mostly to herself. “I wanted an outcome that was surprising, you know? It’s not at all despairing if everything turned out predictably.” She sighed.

 

A loud thump came from the window. Naegi’s heart leapt with hope. He couldn’t face the window itself, but he could deduce from the sound what was going on. They were trying to break in. They were going to be saved!

 

Enoshima yawned. “Good luck breaking through _that_. The glass is especially modified to withstand a cannon. It’s really funny to watch them try.”

 

Naegi was crushed.

 

“They can still get in through the front door,” Ikusaba piped in. Naegi was surprised by the bite in her tone. “You didn’t think to barricade _that_.”

 

“I didn’t need to, dear sister. When you see what else I have in plan, you’ll be in awe of my genius once again.”

 

So Ikusaba wasn’t aware of everything Enoshima planned as he had previously thought. He caught her eye. Her face was stony, but her eyes were grim. Naegi shot her a pleading look. _Please. Don’t let me be wrong about you. Don’t throw away my faith in you._

 

Ikusaba turned away. 

 

The front door of the house gave way to a few more crashing sounds. Then there were quick footsteps. They were so close to being saved! Just a few more seconds.

 

And then, Enoshima produced a metal box with a big red button from the inside of her blouse. The next moments became a blur. Her thumb hovered over the button. Naegi wasn’t sure, but it looked like Ikusaba started to sprint towards Enoshima, but even if she did it was too late. She pressed the button before the officers could even approach the staircase. The entire room burst into flames.

 

“No!” Naegi yelled, struggling to break through his bonds. Ishimaru jolted beside him, gasping for breath. Naegi felt Oowada squirming as well. 

 

The fire crept up the walls until pieces of rubble from the ceiling fell on top of them. Naegi was powerless even to protect his head. The heat rose to unbearable levels. Sweat formed in beads on his forehead. He was done. They were all done. But out of the crushing hopelessness, he looked back at Enoshima and wondered why she wasn’t trying to escape.

 

Enoshima caught his eye, and she smiled. “You’ll _love_ this part, Naegi-kun,” she drawled.

 

The fire haloed around her chair, closing in at an agonizing pace, but she made no move to get away. She stayed put, her hands poised at the arms of her chair, her face a disturbing expression of extreme serenity. Her eyes were closed.

 

It dawned on Naegi how she truly never intended to get away with her crimes. Enoshima had planned from the very beginning the makings, the witnesses, and the conclusion of her suicide. It was the only event that would bring her to the deep abyss of despair that she so immensely craved. Today was the day that she would succumb to the desires of the black pit in her chest, where her heart should be. And she’d handpicked the people she’ll be dragging down with her. 

 

The air began to grow thin. His eyes burnt with black smoke that barred his vision. He could only make out the bright orange flames licking up the surfaces of the room, swallowing entirely. Greedily. Enoshima gave a contented hum.

 

And then one of the ceiling beams fell on top of her and landed on her lap. She gave a howl of pain. It was too heavy for her to remove, and she sat immobilized.

 

The metal bands around Naegi’s wrists were removed.

 

He looked in shock at Ikusaba, who had her own remote control with around six buttons on it. She must’ve been controlling the ‘renovations’ around the house all along. She had her glare trained on Enoshima. “What are you waiting for?” she yelled. “Get out!”

 

The three freed hostages stood up. Ishimaru, his eyes wide, looked to Oowada. “Fujisaki!” 

 

Oowada sprung into position. He trampled on patches of the floor that had only small flames. Ishimaru went on behind him, stepping precisely where Oowada did. Naegi knew he should follow. He should get out of the room. Find an escape route. But he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the twins, now locked in an eternal stare-off.

 

“ _Sister,_ ” Enoshima spat at her feet. “I always knew you’d crack sooner or later. I’m not even surprised!”

 

“No more!” The soldier screamed, her throat raw with pent up frustration. “You will control me no more!”

 

“You’re worthless. Do you think anyone could ever love you like I do? There’s no one else, Mukuro! Just me!”

 

“No,” Ikusaba said, trembling. “That’s not true.”

 

“I hope you realize the mistake you’re making. Come sit with me, sister.” The Mastermind’s breathing turned shallow. Naegi found that Enoshima’s feet were swallowed in flames now. “Do not be _foolish_.”

 

A pained expression appeared on Ikusaba’s face. Naegi now chose to walk to the door. He held out a hand toward Ikusaba. “Come on, Ikusaba! Let’s go!”

 

She gasped, her agonizing gaze turning to him. She stared at his hand, then back up to his face. She looked back and forth between him and Enoshima. And she shook her head, walking towards the latter. “I… I am sorry, Naegi-kun. Please save yourself.”

 

Naegi looked on in horror. Ikusaba can’t possibly…!

 

He locked eyes with Enoshima again. _What are you…?_

 

Enoshima winked.

 

A grip on his shoulder pulled him backwards. He turned and saw Ishimaru. “The place is about to collapse. Mondo has already taken Chihiro to safety. We have to go!”

 

“No!” Naegi looked to Ikusaba. “Not without her! _Please_ , Ikusaba! You have to stay alive. You have to! Don’t give up hope!”

 

Ikusaba’s eyes reflected the flames all around them. They didn’t have much time. Naegi held out his hand again. She started walking, _towards him._ Naegi released his breath. His hand was only a few inches from Ikusaba’s now.

 

For the first time since he’d met her, she smiled.

 

And the flame-wrecked floor gave way beneath her, and she disappeared into the darkness.

 

“NO! IKUSABA, NO NO NO NO!!!” Naegi wanted to crawl down the pit. Maybe she was still there. Still safe. But Ishimaru’s arm wound tight around his waist and he was dragged out into the hall.

 

“It’s too late, Naegi! Let us escape!” Naegi knew the prefect was right, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. Ikusaba justified his hopes before, she couldn’t possibly fail him now.

 

There was more fire and more falling debris. And even as they made it out safely through the front door, either by Ishimaru’s astute precision or just sheer dumb luck, Enoshima’s ugly cackles echoed in his head.

 

-

 

When Kirigiri saw Ishimaru and Naegi finally step out, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking with relief. She sprinted, ignoring the stabs of pain from her broken foot, and wrapped her arms around Naegi’s neck. He remained limp.

 

“Naegi,” she said when she pulled back, taking in his state. “Naegi, you’re safe now.”

 

He shook his head. His head contained nothing. “Ikusaba…”

 

It was all Kirigiri needed to hear to heed the situation. She looked to Ishimaru for confirmation, and his bowed head was answer enough.

 

When the fire was finally put out, Kirigiri held Naegi’s hand as Ikusaba’s body was placed on the stretcher and carried into an ambulance.


	28. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know what y’all are thinking. I never thought this day would come either.  
> (aka wherein Leann comes back to her fanfics 3 years later and finds an unfinished epilogue for a story she so rudely abandoned. ending is rushed, you've been warned)

“Are you sure it’s gonna be okay?”

 

“Naegi, sit still.”

 

“I mean, what if it’s not? Kirigiri, it’s been four days!”

 

“I will hold you down with my own hands if you don’t stop squirming. Those bandages on your head need to be replaced and you’re making it hard on the nurse!”

 

“But—”

 

“The doctor said it’s fine. Trust him. Ikusaba is fine.”

 

The pair sat on some chairs in the waiting area. Kirigiri’s crutch rested on the side of her seat and she held a cup of stale coffee in one hand. Beside her was Naegi, whose bandages were now pristine white and clean. In the aftermath of the Enoshima encounter, his head became a muddle. He hadn’t noticed that a piece of rubble fell and scraped the top of his head, blood trickling down the side of his face. He was lucky that was all the injury he sustained, same with Ishimaru, Oowada, and Fujisaki. They were all extremely lucky. But whatever luck had worked in their favor did not bode well for Ikusaba, who was retrieved from the house’s kitchen barely alive. In spite of it all, she was saved. And she was recuperating. Naegi knew not what life awaited her when she woke, but if he could impart her some of his luck he would.

 

Ishimaru appeared, his arm in a sling. He smiled at the pair, though it was more for the sake of formality as it did not reach his eyes. “How is she?” he asked.

 

“Ikusaba’s still unconscious,” Naegi replied. “Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”

 

Kirigiri placed a hand on top of his shaking one. “Relax. The injuries she sustained are far worse than yours. She’ll need a lot of sleep to repair them.”

 

He nodded, believing her.

 

Ishimaru cleared his throat. “Naegi, I…” He sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck, his frame limply hanging over the two. “I’m sorry I… I wasn’t able to help. Y-you know, when we were there. I wanted to! I really did! But something came over me, I don’t know… and I was frozen. I couldn’t move. I was—”

 

“You were scared,” said Naegi. “It’s understandable.”

 

“I was cowardly. There is simply no excuse.”

 

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Kirigiri countered. “You got Naegi out of there in time. Only short moments after your escape all probable exits from your position had been blocked by rubble. If you hadn’t been there, Naegi wouldn’t have made it out at all. You saved a person’s life, Ishimaru. Are you really demeaning yourself for that?”

 

The grip on Naegi’s hand tightened. He looked at the detective in awe. He hadn’t been aware of this piece of information. “Wow.” Turning to the prefect, he gave a bright smile. “Thank you, Ishimaru. I feel like I owe you so much now.”

 

Ishimaru shook his head. “No, not at all! You owe me nothing!”

 

“You’re a great friend,” Kirigiri said. Ishimaru was on the verge of tears.

 

“I…” Ishimaru changed the subject before the waterworks could continue. “I just came from Fujisaki’s room.”

 

Fujisaki had been given a different concoction too. She’d been asleep all throughout. Even as Oowada slung her small frame over his shoulder and got her out of the fire, which had crept up her legs by the time he got to her. She had second degree burns on the sides of her legs, but other than that she was fine. The burns will heal. They will, perhaps, scar badly, but they all had been scarred emotionally for the rest of their lives anyway. Other physical scars seem minor now.

 

“Is there anything she said? About Enoshima or when she was taken captive?” Kirigiri asked.

 

“Nothing. She’d been walking home when somebody grabbed her from behind and placed a handkerchief over her nose. After that she woke up in this hospital with no recollection at all of what had taken place.” 

 

Kirigiri nodded. “I didn’t expect there to be much information anyway.”

 

“And how is she?” Naegi inquired.

 

“She is fine, don’t worry. I left her with Mondo. She’s getting to be more talkative.” There was a fond smile on his face as he spoke. The expression was fleeting, however. The smile turned down, lines appearing in the space between his brows. “Can I ask? Enoshima, she is…?”

 

“Dead,” Kirigiri quipped. “It was all part of her plan, to have us witness her suicide. We were all pawns in her chess game. Me, especially. I was the most foolish of all of us.”

 

“Then it’s over.” The relief in his voice was unmistakable.

 

“Yes,” she said. “Please rest easy, Ishimaru. Thank you for everything and I’m glad you are safe.”

 

“I should probably be thanking you, Kirigiri-san! You were very smart! And Naegi, standing up to Enoshima like you did. You were so brave.”

 

Naegi laughed. “It was more of plain stupidity than anything else.” He got a chuckle in response.

 

“I should head back to Fujisaki now. Please alert us if anything happens to Ikusaba.” They agreed and Ishimaru walked away.

 

The moment that he was out of earshot, Naegi turned to the detective. “Kirigiri…”

 

“You saw through it, didn’t you? Do you think he noticed anything?”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t think anyone else could’ve noticed. I’m just getting better at finding out when you’re lying. Now tell me, what actually happened to Enoshima?”

 

They locked eyes, Kirigiri’s lower lip trembling before speaking. “They never found the body.”

 

Naegi swallowed, his heartbeat hammering at the mere thought of Enoshima’s still living body. “That’s impossible. There was a big block of cement on her lap. She wouldn’t have been able to move at all.”

 

“I’m stating the facts as it is. After you got out, they managed to retrieve Ikusaba. I told the firefighters the perpetrator was still inside. It took them another few moments to get the fire under control, but they claimed not to have seen any sign of another human still inside.”

 

Before Naegi could form a reply, a doctor turned up and commanded their attention. “She doesn’t seem to have any family, and you were the ones she came in with, so… Mukuro Ikusaba is awake now if you would like to visit her.”

 

-

 

Ikusaba suffered from minor burns, a fractured arm, three broken ribs, and some internal bleeding. But her eyes were open and lit up with unfathomable emotion when she saw Naegi and Kirigiri approaching. Naegi made an effort to look encouraging, shooting her a warm smile. Kirigiri was her usual stoic self, ready to get down to business as soon as the luckster finished the formal greetings.

 

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” he started. Relief flooded on her face.

 

“But I’m going to jail. I must pay for my misdeeds.” Her voice was scratchy and it took a while for her to speak. She grimaced. “Thank you, though. For deeming me worthy of saving.”

 

“Naegi’s faith in you was unwavering.” Kirigiri approached her bedside. “I hope you realize what a huge honor that is.”

 

Ikusaba averted Kirigiri’s stern gaze. “I do realize. I dare not ask for more than that.”

 

Naegi took in her frail disposition, her eyes glazed with sadness. Ikusaba spent her entire life being manipulated by her own sister, to the point of her own destruction. She’d fashioned herself… No, Enoshima fashioned her to be the perfect killing machine by instilling in her the idea that no one else would care for her other than Enoshima. And she’d followed until she completely dehumanized herself. Now that she’d betrayed Enoshima and with the prospect of lifetime imprisonment hanging over her head, what could she possibly think was still in store for her? He wanted to give her hope, but he did not know how.

 

As always though, it was Kirigiri who had the solution.

 

“I have a business proposal to you, Ikusaba. Enoshima has escaped from the fire.”

 

To his surprise, Ikusaba scoffed. “That sounds like her, alright.”

 

“I need to track her down, for good. And also each and every member of her despair group. I can’t have a single one of them walking free and unharmed.”

 

Ikusaba nodded in understanding. “You think… I could supply you information about them?”

 

“Yes. I understand Enoshima, to a certain extent. I thought I did fully, but recent events have proved that I am only partially inclined to what goes on in her mind. I need someone who really knows her. And who better to understand her than her former right-hand woman?”

 

“I don’t know a lot about… the despair network,” she admitted. “I know most of the members, but some of them are out of my reach. In fact, I knew nothing about Mrs. Matsui until I was given the order to shoot her son.”

 

“The members that you know are students at Hope’s Peak, aren’t they?”

 

Naegi’s eyes widened at the statement. 

 

“Yes, they are. I don’t know what will happen to them now that they think Enoshima is dead. I would like to hope that without her they’d be harmless.”

 

Naegi knew that would be too much to hope for, even for him.

 

Kirigiri spoke again. “I would also like to propose a partnership, once you’re fully recuperated, that is. You’ve proven yourself time and time again a reliable and stealthy fighter. One that would prove indispensable to my investigations.”

 

“You’re asking me to-to fight alongside you?”

 

Even Naegi was surprised. For all the doubts that Kirigiri had on her character, this kind of proposal was definitely a huge turn in reverse. “Naegi trusts you, and I trust his judgment. That is all I have to say on the matter. Should you choose to cooperate and testify against Enoshima in the succeeding trial, I’m willing to negotiate with the force on the repercussions of your crimes.”

 

“You don’t have to answer right away, of course,” Naegi said, breaking out of his astonishment. “This might be too much to ask of you, going against your sister and all.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Ikusaba said. “I have no doubt in my mind that I want to put an end to Enoshima’s schemes. I will assist in your investigations to the best of my ability.”

 

A sly smile materialized on Kirigiri’s face. And if Naegi hadn’t just finished an encounter with Enoshima, he would’ve thought that he was the only person in the room who wasn’t completely insane.

 

-

 

Kiyotaka Ishimaru had much more than what he bargained for when he decided to take that leap of faith and become friends with Mondo Oowada. From that stemmed the rest of the chaos that would scar him for life. And yet from that also stemmed even more friendships and experiences he’s sure to never forget. If there was anything he learned, it’s that the world was so much larger, madder, better than he initially perceived.

 

From across the hall, he looked at Oowada, calmly picking at the lint from the bandages on his arm. His hair drooped lazily over his brows, spilling onto the bows of his eyelids. The biker caught his eye, and they shared a knowing smile. His face said it all - I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re alive. And with me.

 

“What’re you lookin’ at?” said Oowada in a teasing tone. “Am I too handsome?”

 

“Mondo,” Ishimaru said his name like a prayer and sighed. “You need to get a haircut.”


End file.
